Mending Dr Steele
by Bronze Goddess
Summary: After the Edward David situation, Ana struggles to find peace, happiness, and closure in her life. Will the love of her friends, family, and a good man be enough to conquer to old demons that have resurfaced and the new demons that haunt her? This is Book II—sequel to Paging Dr. Steele. AU and (so I've been told) a little OOC as well.
1. Prologue--Chapter 1

_**Our favorite couple and sickos are back. Thanks for sticking around and thanks for the new readers that I have acquired along the way. Book I is still in editing and turn out to be so long that it will end up being Book I: Volume I and Volume II. Lots of changes in my life since we last talked but the most significant is that I had to close my business and get a job. That's not the worst thing in the world since now I can go to work and come home and not constantly have work on my mind. However, lots of overtime in my future—so for a while (indefinitely right now) there will only be one chapter a week and so far, it will be on Saturdays. So here it is—enjoy the return of Dr. Steele!**_

_**This disclaimer goes for every chapter in this story-**__******I do not own Fifty Shades Trilogy or the characters. They belong to E. L. James. I am only exercising my right to exploit, abuse, and mangle the characters to MY discretion in MY fanfic in MY interpretation as a fan. I hope you—as a fellow fan—enjoy it, too.**_

_**Prologue (Chapter 1) **_

_**June 2013  
Lincoln**_

I came to the Tier for Tier time, but I wish I had just stayed in my damn cell. These women here treat me like utter shit—when they're not trying to beat my ass, that is. I don't have my money and what I did have is locked up with my damn attorneys. Even my subs that were supporting me when this whole ordeal began have all gone AWOL. I'm all by myself in this—that is, until Christian gets his head out of his ass and stops sniffing behind that worthless little tramp... well, not so worthless as of late, I'm afraid. How did I ever let this happen? How did I let him slip through my fingers? How did my whole life fall apart right before my very eyes?

I know how it happened. It was _her_! _She _did this to me. She came along and started meddling in affairs that were none of her damn business and now my whole life has fallen to shreds. If it's the last thing I do, with the very last breath I take, I will make her pay for ruining my life. One way or another, I will make her pay. I am jolted from my thoughts by the feeling of my chair being hauled from under me and the hard thud of my tailbone hitting the linoleum floor. Fuck, that hurts!

"Oh, I'm sorry, Baby Fucker, were you sitting here?" I hear behind me followed by a rash of laughter. I recognize the voice though I don't know her name. I mean, I do, but I don't remember which one it is—there are so many of them that hate me here. They think I have money and can pay them off, which I don't... not anymore anyway. I'm not supposed to be in here with these hardened common criminals—murderers and armed robbers and gang members and... this is just not right. I stand to my feet and brush off my butt then stand against the wall where I can face the room. I'm usually safest when I can see what's happening before it comes.

The guards do nothing to help me, either. If anything, they are worse than the inmates. I have all but forgotten the manicures, pedicures, facials, and massages that were once a regular routine for me. I'm lucky if I can even get a shower now. My hair is this long, wretched mix of gray and brown with brassy dirty blonde ends—the last reminder of what my life once was. Even after all this time, I still imagine Christian gorgeous gray gaze upon me, his beautiful locks, his taut muscles, his baritone voice. I miss him so much...and I hate her. With everything I have in me, I hate her. I ask the guard if I can return to my cell. With her approval, I proceed to leave the Tier but my exit is blocked by yet another member of my "fan club."

"Going somewhere, Baby Fucker? They're playing your song!" she says pushing me back into the room as they make me watch that damn commercial again—the commercial that actually caused me to go into convulsions when I saw it for the first time:

_It's starts with a black screen and then a piano begins to play. Pictures flash very quickly on the screen behind a statistic of how many cases of domestic abuse there are each year. The pictures keep flashing, then there is the statistic of the cases of child abuse. As the pictures continue to flash, the statistics are shown—deaths from domestic violence, cases of child molestation and incest, families separated because of abuse, murder/suicides, cases of neglect. The pictures stop flashing and one picture of a beautiful young Cuban woman is shown on the screen. At first it is a still picture, and then it becomes a motion picture as the beautiful woman says, "I am the face of abuse."_

_One by one, the pictures change and people declare being "the face of abuse."_

_A beautiful Indian woman with a bindi and wrapped in a saree: "I am the face of abuse."  
An older black gentleman with salt and pepper hair: "I am the face of abuse."_

_A Native American mother with a baby not quite one year old: "We are the faces of abuse."_

_A young Caucasian girl in a wheelchair: "I am the face of abuse."_

_A teenage Caucasian boy who is using sign language and the caption read: "I am the face of abuse."_

_A Chinese gentleman recognized as a well-known judge in the state of Washington: "I am the face of abuse."_

_A black mother and her two young sons: "We are the faces of abuse."_

_Three small Mexican children, all under ten years old: "We are the faces of abuse."_

_Allen's boyfriend, James: "I am the face of abuse."_

_A Caucasian woman known as a Senator for the state of Washington: "I am the face of abuse."_

_A middle-aged Samoan man: "I am the face of abuse."_

_Two Filipino teenagers—a boy and a girl: "We are the faces of abuse."_

_A Cuban man known as a local celebrity: "I am the face of abuse."_

_Anastasia: "I am the face of abuse."_

_Six-year-old Australian twins: "We are the faces of abuse."_

_A Brazilian mother holding a picture of her adult daughter in the hospital on life support, badly bruised and beaten: "She is the face of abuse."_

_An elderly Vietnamese woman: "I am the face of abuse."_

_Christian: "I am the face of abuse. It comes in many forms—emotional, physical, or sexual. You don't have to suffer in silence. You are not alone. If you are being abused or touched in an inappropriate manner, talk to a family member, a teacher, a guidance counselor, or a religious leader, but please...tell someone. If you need help, call us here at Helping Hands at 206-555-3179. Someone is available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week to listen and to help you escape an abusive situation. It's not hopeless and someone does care. Please, call today. Do not suffer another moment." _

_As Christian finishes his speech, the camera pans out and all of the "faces of abuse," those who spoke and many more, gather behind him and look into the screen. The number flashes on the screen again, then the screen goes black and the number and "Helping Hands" is still on the screen with the words "Be a success story, not a statistic."_

The room erupts in laughter and applause as tears fill my eyes. They love to torture me. They know my story, and every time that commercial comes on, they make me watch it if I'm on the Tier. I have actually been beaten over it—when I tried to leave the second time I saw it. I don't know why I reacted so violently to it, why it hurts so much to watch it. I should be happy to get a glimpse of my beloved Christian whenever I can, but to hear him call it abuse... what we had, what we shared. I knew he could have been talking about what happened to him before and most likely, he was—but I also knew that he was talking about us. I wanted it to be so much more so badly. He's the only man that I ever loved that way... no one else, not even Linc. All of those years that I programmed him not to love anyone else, I programmed him not to love me either. Now, he hates me, and it's all her fault... all her fault...


	2. Plenty To Be Thankful For

**Since Chapter 1/The Prologue was so short, here's another chapter. All disclaimers apply.**

**Chapter 2—Plenty To Be Thankful For **

_**Thanksgiving 2012**_

_**STEELE**_

"I'm on my way up right now. I didn't expect to be here that long."

"Christian Trevelyan Grey, you have said that for the last hour. I am dressed and waiting for you! If you are not up here in the next 15 minutes, I am left without you and you can explain to your mother why you are late when you get there!" He laughs into the phone.

"Yes, Dear," he replies, his voice full of mirth.

"I'm not kidding, Christian," I say sitting on the edge of our bed. "We are supposed to be in Bellevue in an hour. You still have to shower and change and we still have to get there. Now, you only have _14_ minutes to..."

My rant is interrupted by the sound of our bedroom door opening. In walks 6' 2" of gorgeous muscle draped in sweaty gym shorts and a tank top, his hair dripping wet.. and sexy!

"You were saying, Ms. Steele?" he says, sauntering in my direction, his calf and thigh muscles flexing and contracting with every step. My God, he's so hot!

_Wake up! You're all fresh and sexy and he's all sweaty... hot, yes, but still sweaty!_

I put my hand up to stop Mr. Grey in his tracks.

"Hold it right there, Sexy." He freezes in his spot, a sexy half-smile gracing his lips. "Though you look absolutely edible right now, you need to shower and change and we need to get going. I don't want to be late."

"Don't you want to join me?" He says, inching closer to me. I put my hand up again and stand my ground.

"Shower! Now, Christian!" I assert. "I'm fresh-faced and ready and you are wasting time... and don't touch me with your sweaty stinkiness either!" I tease. He kisses me on the lips and heads toward the en suite.

"Ten minutes, Baby," he says, throwing a smile over his shoulder at me. Once he disappears into the en suite, I stand to check my outfit in the full length closet mirror once more. I am wearing a black sweater dress with rust-colored accessories—a multi-strand necklace made of rust-colored wooden beads with matching earrings, a matching wooden ring, and a large bangle bracelet as well as a matching leather belt, purse, and high-heeled knee-high boots. I leave the bedroom and decide on one last cup of coffee while I am waiting for Christian to get dressed.

I sit at the breakfast bar drinking my coffee and scrolling through email on my iPhone. To say that this has been a _very _interesting summer would be an understatement and now, this is my first Thanksgiving with the Greys. My dad and Mandy will be joining us as well. Normally, I would spend time with members of the Scooby Gang that didn't choose to leave town for the holiday. Strangely, except for Maxie and Phil who have been together forever it seems, everyone in the Scooby Gang has new love interests this year! This means meeting and/or spending time with the new "folks." Speaking of which, I will get to spend Thanksgiving with at least one of the Scooby Gang since Valerie will be there as well.

My Google alerts inform me that "Ana-Watch" is going strong. The paparazzi hasn't been on my butt so much since that press conference back in August, but there are several pictures of "what Ana is wearing" since I chewed out that nosy blonde reporter. There are pictures of me and my fashion statements all over the Internet—some taken by paps and others sent in to some rag by a passer-by with a cell phone. I've gotten to the point now where if I see someone taking a picture and it's not an inconvenient moment, I just pose. I don't know why they're so interested, but who am I to argue? It also means that even though I don't wear Vera Wang every day, I can't leave the house looking like hell warmed over. In the latest capture, I am at the marketplace in a cowl-neck sweater and Roberto Cavalli tapered jeans standing at one of the fruit stands. I don't know where they hide to take these pictures or even who's interested in that stuff... but there it is. It reminds me of the circus that day that I finally moved the last of my things to Escala.

_I was tired of "grabbing a few things" and taking them to the penthouse to avoid drawing attention to myself. On what I thought was a stroke of brilliance, I recruited Chuck, Larry, and some other guys from the security staff to bring three of the SUV's to my condo on an impromptu trip to grab all of my stuff and go. It would have worked out perfectly until that nosy bitch in 1961 alerted the paparazzi that I was moving out. One minute, we are quietly loading my things into the Audis and the next minute, we are surrounded by cameras! It was honestly a media circus because it was initially made to appear I was sneaking out of one place into another. _

_Luckily, I have a rapport with most members of the press and I was able to talk to them, which resulted in an impromptu press conference in my parking structure. _

"_So what's going on, Ana? Why the secrecy?" one reporter had asked. I gestured to the gaggle of reporters. _

"_Obviously, I wasn't looking for secrecy—I was looking for peace," I reply with mirth, eliciting a laugh from the press. "Seriously, though, how many other people are moving today and it's not news?"_

"_Oh, don't be coy, Ana," a snarky reporter throws out there, one that I haven't seen before. "Everybody knows that you are aching to move into Escala and become the first lady of Seattle business!" Of course, it's a female. _

"_Who wants to respond to that for me?" I say innocently, gesturing to the crowd of reporters and at least three of them knows the routine—one of which is Ferris, another freelance reporter that likes to follow me. _

"_Bueller," I say, using the nickname that I gave him. _

"_Ms. Steele is a doctor with her own practice and she most likely makes more money than you make. She has her own identity and does not need to piggyback off of Christian Grey—although the attention is very nice!" The reporters laugh again. _

"_Thank you, Bueller," I say, hoping this is the last of that conversation. Still trying to egg me on and get a response, she keeps going._

"_Yes, that's all very sweet, but even you can't deny the benefits of being Christian Grey's love interest," she continues sarcastically. Seriously? Is she really serious? Outwardly, the man is gorgeous, rich, and is pretty much a celebrity in Seattle. Inwardly, he's considerate, generous, loving, and an awesome fuck! What the hell is she getting at that the rest of us don't already know? Okay, Bitch... your turn._

"_Oh, I see now. You want a story. Okay, I'll make you famous. I'll tell you what my real motive is." I lean in to her like I'm about to tell her a secret. "I'm a girl, and I met this guy. I liked him and he liked me, so we started dating. Oh! Now, don't tell anybody, but we had sex, too," I say just above a whisper. The other reporters are laughing, but I keep my face serious like I'm telling her a big secret. _

"_So, we fell in love kind of fast, right? I thought so, too, but gee, I couldn't help it... he's really hot!" I say it like a high school cheerleader, and there is more laughter. "Okay, so now, about a month later, some really bad things started happening—I mean, really bad things, like George-getting-hit-by-a-bus-on-Grey's-Anatomy bad." More laughter. "So, it kind of made us feel like life is too short and we started spending more and more time with each other. Then, we didn't want to be apart, so he was like, 'you wanna move in with me?' and I was like 'yeah!'" I have migrated into valley-girl speak, and some of the other reporters are literally slapping their thighs. Reporter Girl's face has fallen, but I'm not done yet. _

"_So, anyway, I was just getting things that I needed here and there, and every time I needed something, I had to come back here and get it! Well, last night, I was making a crème brulee and I didn't have my torch! Now that was tragic, like the last episode of 'Lost' tragic!" More laughter, and this poor girl looks to be getting smaller and smaller. "Well, this was just unacceptable, so I finally just thought 'Hey, why not just make one trip and bring everything?' So, here we are... packing up my possessions and doing what several people have done across time and will continue to do when I'm dead and gone—moving in with their boyfriends." Now my voice is serious again. _

"_The fact that people like you keep insinuating that I am only with Christian because of his money and status implies that he is not _lovable_, and I find _that _more offensive than you thinking I'm a gold-digger!" I spit shooting daggers at her from my eyes... and now the garage is quiet._

"_We've had this conversation many times and I'm not going to keep denying it. I'm not with Christian Grey for his money. I am not with Christian Grey for publicity. I am not trying to be, as you call it, the First Lady of Seattle Business. I would think that in order to have that title, I would have to first be in _business,_ then work my way up. I am with Christian Grey because I love him. If that's not good enough for you, then go write whatever you want, but you're not going to get anything else out of me. Quite frankly, as far as 'Ana-Watch' is concerned," I make the quotation marks with my fingers, "that line of questioning is about as old as "_I did not have sexual relations with that woman.' _You should honestly be ashamed to keep asking... I'm not even a reporter and even I know that certain stories age in dog years. The fact that another reporter answered that question for me should tell you that. I thought that being a reporter meant following the fresh story. Try to keep up." _

_Someone in the back calls out, "Sacrificial lamb," and the cameras start snapping in this particular reporter's direction. I am confused as a look of horror comes across her face. I lean back and ask Chuck, "What just happened?" _

"_Well," he begins, "Little Ms. Reporter Girl back there just became the story. At all of your press conferences—impromptu or not—you always take a bite out of somebody's ass. Remember the guy in the mall that tried to trip you for a scoop?" _

"_Do I?" I exclaim. "I thought the guy would end up in traction!"_

"_Well, each time somebody eggs you on or says or does something stupid, you end up sending somebody to the proverbial gallows. Whomever that unlucky person is becomes deemed the 'sacrificial lamb' because most often, after they've pissed you off and they make the front page for it, they can't go anywhere. They've lost all respect and can't get close to famous people. They are not invited to events and they are deemed a menace. Most often are either fired or can't find any work anymore," he informs me. _

"_Oh my God, really?" I exclaim loudly and the crowd of reporters turns around to see what was going on. "I didn't know what 'sacrificial lamb' meant," I confess. "Sorry," I say to the latest lamb, my apology insincere. When you attack someone, you have to be prepared for what you get. I kept my promise... she got her story and she's famous, just not in the way that she expected._

"_Well, ladies and gentlemen—and lamb—my 'incognito' move is complete and I'm going to my new home now. You guys have made it interesting." I say with a laugh and wave to them as I get into the SUV with Chuck and the three Audis make our way back to Escala. As for my nosy neighbor in 1961, she received an anonymous delivery in a lovely red box. When she opened it, she was greeted with a stink bomb made out of a product called "Liquid Ass." It is exactly what it sounds like, and it gets into your clothes, your hair, your skin, the room, the furniture, everything. It is more potent than a skunk scent and much like that scent, very difficult to get rid of. I'm told that she stayed in her apartment for a week. _

Yes, I am now one of the residents of the coveted Escala apartments. I have taken advantage of the spa and the gym for my workouts, but I haven't yet had a chance to look around as much as I would like. I have been terribly busy preparing for the trial and lawsuit against Edward David, trying to evade the persistent Elena Lincoln as I would still like to kill her, and contending with my newfound—and sometimes unwelcome—celebrity status. Sometimes, I do miss the days of lounging in my condo with a glass of Cabernet and my biggest concern being what to watch on television. Now, when I leave the penthouse, I have to be careful of what I do, what I say, where I go, what I wear, who I'm with, everything! Somebody—anybody—is waiting for Ana to slip up, and be there to take the picture. It can be a little daunting sometimes.

My thoughts are interrupted by strong arms wrapping around my waist and open-mouthed kisses being planted on my neck.

"You smell good," he says, his hair still damp from his shower.

"So do you now that you have washed off the sweatiness," I say. "You washed your hair—why didn't you dry it? You'll catch cold."

"Don't worry," he says. "I have Davenport warming the car. I'll jump right in behind you." I smile at him.

"Good. You know how much of a baby you can be when you don't feel well," I tease.

"You are never going to let me live that down, are you?" he sighs.

"Oh, I will one day, but not too soon," I respond. In mid-October, a flu broke out at GEH and the great Christian Grey was stricken. He is a horrible patient! He was so miserable, he was determined to locate the culprit responsible for introducing this pestilence to his company and have them fired and quarantined like Typhoid Mary. I assured him that this plan of action was illegal and he reluctantly abandoned the idea, but he was a nightmare that entire week. He snapped at me so many times that one day, I left him in the loving care of Gail Taylor and escaped back to my condo—with Chuck in tow, of course—to avoid being abused by the ailing Christian Grey. Having assured Jason that I was okay and that Chuck would be staying with me in the guest room, I ignored his calls and his texts which drove him absolutely crazy. Sheer weakness was the only thing that prevented him from retrieving me and bringing me back to Escala. Needless to say, he was quite repentant upon my return the next day.

As promised, Christian did not dawdle in the parking garage. He dashed straight from the elevator to the SUV and hurriedly entered the car right behind me. The toasty warmth of the interior dried his hair on the ride to Bellevue and calmed my fears that I would have an insufferably sick boyfriend to contend with in the coming days. Jason and Gail are spending their holiday with family. Coincidentally, Chuck's family is in Bellevue, so he will drop us at Grace and Carrick's and spend some time with his family to be close to us as needed.

Now, the Greys have something that I have never heard of, but I am very anxious to take part in it. It is called "four-day Thanksgiving." On Thanksgiving Day, we meet for lunch at the Grey family home. The ladies participate in helping with dinner while the men watch the sport of their choice—of course, usually football. I say _participate_ because the house has cooks. So we're not really cooking except for special desserts or some special thing that we want to do. It's just the time of day for the women to get together and chew the fat—catch up on the week, or the month, or the year, as it were.

On Friday, the men are lounging again or going off to that magical fifth dimension that men disappear into while the women spend the day Black Friday shopping. This year, Christian is assuring that we have enough security and SUV's to clean out the mall. I had to compromise on this one, because I normally do this with Maxie and Al in tow as well. They agreed to meet us at the mall since Val will already be with me. On Saturday, there is some kind of semi-formal fundraiser dance that the Greys attend every year to raise funding to adopt underprivileged families in the Seattle area for Christmas, which I think is just fabulous. The weekend ends after another family day on Sunday before we all have to return to work.

We pull up to the Grey home and there are several cars in the driveway and in front of the house. It's Thanksgiving... Who are all of these people?

"What in the world is this?" Christian asked. He got out of the SUV then opened the door for me. "It's Thanksgiving for fuck's sake. Don't these people have families of their own?" I think he must have recognized some of the cars because he doesn't sound pleased but I still have no idea what's going on.

When we get inside, Elliot heads us off at the door.

"Apparently, there was something cooking with the Saturday fundraiser that simply could not wait until tomorrow, so the mothers and the daughters have descended upon us," Elliot warns. "I have a feeling that some of them are going to try to weasel their way into dinner, but Dad has said 'absolutely not,' so we don't have to worry about that. I have squirreled Valerie into the kitchen with Mia before they even got a chance to see her. Me, Dad and Ethan are in the theater room. You might want to go to your posts before they adjourn."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Christian seems particularly upset about this development as he removes my coat and then his. He kisses me on the cheek before he says, "Go on, Baby. Time for us to go to our corners before the cats are released." I laugh and hug him.

"You know where to find me," I say before escaping to the kitchen with the girls.

Mia, Valerie and I ask just kicking around topics about this and that while Mia put the finishing touches on some apple tarts that she made for the weekend. Grace soon joins us once the "fundraiser meeting" was finished. She commented on how shameless some of the women were. Mia and I just shook our heads as Val has yet to encounter this particular crew. While Grace is busy with her famous pumpkin pie, I am sitting at the breakfast bar in the Grey kitchen talking to Mia and Val.

"Ethan is being awfully distant today," she says to us. "It's really out of character for him. He's always so affectionate."

"Is there anything wrong at work maybe?" I ask. Mia shrugs.

"Not that I know of," she responds. "He's been kind of standoffish all week. I keep asking if he's okay, but he just blows it off. I thought things were going pretty well. We found an apartment—_finally._ That was a pretty harrowing experience. It was harder than I thought to find the right place in a good location with all of the features that we wanted. Granted, we had a few disagreements, but we found a really nice place in the Market district, so it worked out really well—better than even I expected. We've signed our lease and we're moving at the first of the month, so that's one less thing that we have to worry about." She shakes her head. "I don't know. Part of me feels like he's not happy about this... like he's changed his mind or something. Maybe I'm just being paranoid."

"I'm sure it's nothing, Mia," Val says. "Ethan clearly adores you. He could just be nervous. You know how guys are about giving up their 'freedom.' He's been in a bachelor pad all of this time and now he has to share his space with someone. He loves you so much... Anybody can see it. I'm sure that he would never do anything to hurt you." Mia sighs.

"I love him so much, Val..."

"He loves you, too!" I confirm before Val can speak. "There's no way he'd risk losing you." I feel a little sorry for Mia right now. There's nothing worse that feeling uncertain about the man that you love. I smile to myself thinking of Christian, a gesture that doesn't get past Valerie.

"Hey, Steele, I see that twinkle in your eye," she teases.

"Oh, I know you are _not _talking about me, Marshall," I goad. "I almost had to twist yours _and _Elliot's arms to get you together!"

"What do you mean?" Mia asks, and Val sighs.

"She and Elliot were both coming to me telling me that they loved each other, but neither of them would tell _each other_. I nearly lost my mind. They called me in Anguilla, for Christ's sake... both of them!"

"I never knew he called you in Anguilla," Val said.

"Oh yes, he called me before you did! That's why I kept telling you to talk to each other."

"My God, I'm glad the two of you got together," Mia said. "Kate was a nightmare!"

"Mia..." Grace scolds from the sink.

"Well, she was, Mom! I didn't say anything rude or wrong... yet." Mia defends. Grace just shook her head while Mia continued. "She was horrible to Anakins. She kept making all of these awful comments to her. She was even worse than 'the daughters.'"

"The _daughters?_" Val inquired.

"Oh yes, you've never experienced the daughters. In fact, you just missed that experience about twenty minutes ago," I said. "That was a real treat! The 'daughters' are the women that all had their sights set on Christian. Most of them are daughters of the women on the fundraising committee. Some of them are even members themselves. They dropped by this morning for an impromptu meeting which is why we are all hiding out in here and the men have convened to the theater room. The first night that I met Christian's family also coincided with one of the fundraising meetings. When I walked in on Christian's arm, they were ready to crucify me. The whole night was horrible. People were throwing dirty looks at me just because I showed up!" I say to Val gesturing behind her to Liona who right at that moment is throwing dirty looks at me again. Val turned around just in time to look right into Liona's eyes. She glared at Liona for quite some time before Liona even realized that Val was looking at her.

"Do you see what I mean?" I say to Val.

"You're kidding me," Val said menacing.

"No, I'm not. I'm dead serious. Christian offered to come up with an excuse to take me home. If the staff acts that way, you can only imagine what I had to endure at the hands of the entitled daughters!" I spit. I tried to say the last part under my breath but unbeknownst to me, Grace has ears like a bat!

"Is Liona being a problem again?" she asks loudly, glaring at Liona who has turned completely white and is now shrinking near the counter. Shit! I didn't mean for her to hear me and apparently, Liona has been warned about this. I don't want her to lose her job.

"No, Grace. I was talking about the first night that I met you guys. I probably shouldn't have even brought it up. I'm sorry." I throw a look over to Liona that lets her know that she owes me one. Her expression indicates that she is clearly quite chastised. I think Grace knows what I'm doing but she doesn't let on, although she does take this opportunity to reinforce the reprimand.

"Well, as long as you know that no one in my home should be made to feel uncomfortable by _anyone _on my staff, and certainly not my son's girlfriend. I don't care how long they have been on staff here, they _can_ be replaced!" Grace says. The cook, Mrs. Johnson, makes the "tsk, tsk" noise.

"Certaines personnes n'apprennent jamais," she says.

"Tu m'étonnes!" I respond and she and I laugh about it.

"Now, Ladies, behave," Grace says, washing her hands in the sink. I know that she doesn't speak French but I have a feeling that she knew we were misbehaving. Mrs. Johnson just winks at me. Mia smiles sadly at our inside joke and walks out to the patio. I follow her and just stand there with her for a while.

"You and Christian have a perfect relationship," she says softly. "It's like you never fight." I laugh quietly at her misconception.

"Oh, we fight alright. In fact, we've had some real doozies!" I confess.

"I can't believe that," Mia says. "You are so in love, I can't even imagine you having a fight or even a disagreement."

"Make no mistake, Sis. We love very hard; but when you love hard, you fight hard, too," I say, shaking my head. "I remember the fight that we had about John Flynn..."

"You fought about Dr. Flynn?" Mia gasped.

"Oh yes! It was nuclear..." I lament.

_**Two months earlier...**_

"Why would you go see John about me without telling me?" Christian is furious. I didn't even get a chance to tell him myself about my meeting with Flynn two days ago. Then again, it slipped my mind and I wasn't actually forthcoming with the information. I will not feel guilty about this. I will not allow _him_ to make me feel guilty about this either. Fucking John Flynn.

"I wanted to help you, Christian, and I didn't know how," I state.

"Why didn't you just ask me?" he barked.

"Because it was a question that you would not have been able to answer. I needed to know what was the best course of action..."

"So you go behind my back!" he spit. He's not understanding this at all. I only wanted to help him.

"I didn't go behind your back, Baby. It wasn't a secret," I try to explain.

"Don't _Baby_ me, Anastasia. It was a secret. You didn't tell me. I had to find out from him!" He is getting angrier and angrier. What in the hell is this all about?

"Okay! Fine, _Christian_! It wasn't a damn secret! He just told you before_ I _got the chance to tell you." Why the hell is he so pissed off at me?

"Oh, I am only too sure that _you_ were going to tell me!" he snaps. I'm having flashbacks of the phone fight in Anguilla. He's being unreasonable. Something's missing. What exactly did Flynn tell him? The look on my face must have been completely unreadable because if my actual thoughts would have come out, there's no way that the next words that I heard would have fallen out of his mouth. "Exactly how did you plan to explain to me that you went to my shrink to get him to manipulate me for whatever your purposes are?"

I felt my whole body shake. I opened my mouth and I have to say that I have never heard the voice that came out before.

"What!?" I think I could best describe it as a wailing shriek. Every cell in my body was trembling. "What the fuck!?" Same wailing shriek. "Has that trust-issue-having-paranoid-delusional-mother-fuck er rubbed off on you?" The room is vibrating and my hair is shaking around my face. I snatch my purse off my arm and slam it onto the shaking breakfast bar. I can't even hear him anymore. I am so unbelievably pissed that my ears cannot interpret coherent words. This paranoid asshole completely misinterpreted my words _and _my intentions and instead of getting clarification from me, he tells my emotionally fragile, control-freak, jump-to-conclusions boyfriend that I came to this quack in some sort of covert attempt to conspire against my boyfriend. What's worse is that my emotionally fragile, control-freak, jump-to-conclusions boyfriend believed him!

Holy cow Batman and fuck me sideways!

I'm dreaming! This is a dream! I'm going to wake up! He believed him! He believed this shit!

I didn't know I was saying the words aloud but some outer-body me is watching Christian's face morph into pure horror while I reach for my hair in an attempt to stop the curls from shaking—a futile attempt since pure hatred and adrenaline has my hands shaking just as badly as my head. I feel someone touch my arms and it's like fire searing through my skin and I jump away from the grasp.

Fucking asshole piece of fucking shit...again, I don't know if I have verbalized the words or not.

Water... I need water.

I open the cupboard to retrieve a tumbler for some water, but my fingers are not as faithful as I would like. The tumbler slips from my hands and crashes to the kitchen floor. For a moment, that's all that I remember.

"ANASTASIA!" I come to myself and my hands are still shaking. Angry tears are burning my cheeks and I am standing in a graveyard of beautiful Woodbury dinnerware shattered at my feet.

Shit! Did I do this!? Fucking asshole fucking Flynn. My throat is burning. I can only assume that I was doing some kind of banshee scream while I was destroying Christian's beautiful kitchen. Now, I am angry _and_ humiliated. I shakily reach for my purse and pull out my wallet. I'm on autopilot now, not really sure what I'm doing. I still hear myself weeping... I can't feel it, but I hear it. Christian, Gail, and Jason all stare at me while I pull out all of the cash in my wallet along with two of my credit cards and place the items on the counter, my hands still trembling. I'm too embarrassed to raise my head. I step out of the Woodbury graveyard and make my way across the great room to the door.

"I fucking never fucking want to see John fucking Flynn again as long as I fucking live! Chuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!" Come or don't come, but I'm out of here. I run through the door and don't remember how I ended up in the parking structure next to one of the Audis. Chuck is standing there looking at me. I'm holding stilettos in my hand and my right ankle hurts. Again, I can only deduce that I tweaked it running out of the apartment and had the good sense remove my stilettos before I face plant in the parking lot.

"You have keys... I know you do..." I am still livid, I can barely form my words. Chuck pushes a remote and one of the Audis respond. I jump into the back seat. Chuck gets into the driver's seat and starts the car.

"Drive," I breathe.

"Where do you want to go, Ana?" he asks.

"God dammit mother fucking drive!" I scream... so he drives.

_**Present day...**_  
"I was completely livid with your brother, Mia. I couldn't believe that he would ever take Flynn's word over mine. I was so hurt by it that I couldn't even speak to him."

"For how long?" Mia asks incredulously.

"Ten days," Christian's voice says as he is walking out onto the patio. "It was pretty bad." He puts his arms around my waist from behind and pulls me close to him.

"Did you move out, Ana?" Mia asks.

"No, I stayed at Escala," I respond.

"She just gave me the worst silent treatment I have ever had," Christian laments.

* * *

_**GREY**_

_**Two months earlier...**_  
"Boss... what happened?" Jason stands there looking at me while Gail has finally snapped out of her stupor and begins to clean the broken dishes. I run my hands through my hair. What the fuck have I done?

"I think I've majorly fucked up this time," I respond. Jason frowns.

"Worse than the Elliot mix-up?" he asks.

"Much worse than the Elliot mix-up," I say. Jason knows that's serious since the Elliot mix-up landed me in the hospital.

"Worse than the Anguilla situation?" he presses.

"Worlds beyond the Anguilla situation," I respond. Again, Jason knows how bad that was since we almost had to cut an international trip short.

"Bigger than Green Valley?" Poor Jason, he keeps trying.

"Exponentially bigger than Green Valley," I shake my head. "Did you see her? She was shaking like a damn earthquake. She wasn't _that_ angry when Gerald told her that David's plea might work."

"Christian," Jason asks, "_exactly_ what did you do?" I sigh heavily.

"I took Flynn's word over her's," I say finally. Gail groans mournfully at the confession. Yeah, I know.

"Why would you do that?" Jason asks.

"John has never steered me wrong. Why would he do it now?"

"_John_ doesn't love you, Man!" Jason scolds. "That was pretty damn stupid. What did he say?"

"I can't talk about it," I sigh. "I have to try to fix this shit." I grab my keys and jacket and dash out of the door I had entered not 20 minutes earlier. It's hard to believe this whole thing took place in that small amount of time.

A few minutes after I leave the parking garage, I pull up at John's office. I see that his car is still here, so I go inside.

"He's with a patient right now, Mr. Grey. I don't have you down for an appointment. Would you like to make one?" His receptionist says fluttering her eyelashes at me.

"No, I'll wait. I only want a few moments of his time," I say as I sit in the lobby and thumb through my emails. As if he knew I was about to inquire, Davenport sends a text.

_****At Freeway Park, Sir. She is sitting at a picnic table. She won't let me near her. ****_

Fuck, she is pissed. I hope the paparazzi don't come near her right now. Several minutes later, Flynn's door opens and he is showing his last patient out of the office. I stand and he frowns.

"Christian, back so soon?" he says, his look puzzled.

"John, I need to chat."

"It's late, Christian," he protests.

"I assure you, it will only take a moment." I'm surprised by how calm I am, but I think it's because I know how pivotal this particular meeting is. John nods and leads me into his office. I sit on the sofa and he sits in the chair across from me.

"I need you to answer some questions for me, John. They are very important," I say, still calm.

"You need _me _to answer some questions." It was more of a statement than a question. I nod. "Okay, fire away, Christian."

"I need to know exactly what Anastasia said to you when she came to see you." John sighs.

"We've already been through this, Christian," he says impatiently.

"I know, John, but this is really important..." because I need to listen through different ears.

"She said that she wasn't willing to come to joint session with you because she didn't want to voice her concerns to you," he said.

"What concerns?"

"That you weren't handling your emotions well."

"Why did she say she came to you in the first place?" I ask.

"Because she needed help. She didn't want to hold your hand through therapy and she was on the fence about the best way to handle it." That smarts.

"Was that exactly what she said, John?" He looks at me curiously, then thinks for a moment.

"She said that she didn't want to make it seem like she had to hold your hand through therapy." Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

"Do you see how different that is than what you just told me?" I ask.

"Unfortunately, I don't, Christian." Do I really have to school my psychiatrist?

"The first one sounded like I'm lost and confused and that she has to lead the horse to water or he won't drink—the horse being _me_. The second one sounded like she wants me to be strong and find my way through this without her having to be there to guide me every step of the way." John thinks for a moment.

"Yes, I can see how one could see it that way," he concedes.

What!? Fuck me.

"What else did she say, John?" As John reiterated the conversation that he had with Butterfly, I listened with more objective ears instead of the ears to which I had become accustomed—the ones that dictate that everyone was out to get me. I picked apart the conversation bit by bit and then I told John what Butterfly could have meant by the conversation and why she was probably so offended when she left. John still manages to sit there in his superiority. Do you have any fucking idea what you have done, I want to yell.

"Could you have been mistaken? Do you really believe that's what she was doing? Do you really think that she came in here to talk to you behind my back and get you to help her manipulate me?" The million-dollar question. I already know the answer, but I want to see what he says.

"Honestly, I didn't even bother looking at it like that," he responds. "I could have been mistaken..." … But you give me this information then send me out to attack my girlfriend. I am really a fucking fool... first class fucking asshole. I can't believe this. I can't fucking believe this. I almost lost Anastasia because he could have been _mistaken_. That's it for me.

"John, I don't know what the problem is. I don't know why when it comes specifically to Anastasia and her motives towards me, your brain automatically goes into defense mode. You did the same thing that day in my apartment the first day that you met her, and I let that slide because she held her own. Now, you come to me with a concern and you could have very well been mistaken about your interpretation of her intentions. You gave me this information and because I trust you, I acted on it. We've been pretty compatible because we are both non-trusting of people in general and I could follow your line of reasoning and your thinking. Now, you set things in motion that caused me to react in a manner that could have very well cost me the love of my life. I can't have that, John. I'm willing to consider a recommendation for a new therapist but unfortunately, I can't see you anymore. Your tactics are clearly not conducive to what I need at this point. I do thank you for getting me here, but now it's time for me to move on." John's face turns pale.

"Christian, I think you're being a little hasty," he tries to persuade me.

"I don't think so, John. Right now, my girlfriend—the woman that I want to marry someday—is sitting on a bench somewhere in Freeway Park no doubt feeling angry and betrayed; and although she was wise enough to take her personal security with her, she won't allow him near her. When I last saw her, she was destroying about $1500 worth of Woodbury dinnerware. My housekeeper had to scream her name to make her stop. When she came to herself, she pulled a wad of bills out of her wallet along with two of her credit cards and left them on the counter—as if I would really care about money at this point . She was screaming and she wouldn't look at anybody in the room. Do you know why she reacted this way? Because I came home and accused her of using you to manipulate me. I don't what's going to happen when I go back home. She may move out and leave me, I don't know. What I do know is that she loves me and she has never given me any reason to think otherwise... And I walked in here and let you make me doubt her. I understand if you don't want to make a recommendation, but when I leave this office today, I won't be coming back.

"You took what she said and interpreted it for me. You told me what to hear and I foolishly listened to you. Instead of going home and asking my woman exactly what this conversation meant, I took what you said at face value and dumped it in her lap, and it ripped her apart. I don't know what kind of damage this has done now. You have been a great therapist up to this point, but this is apparently out of your realm of expertise. After you told me what she actually said, I could immediately see the error in your interpretation, but _you_ couldn't—and you're the one with the degree. In fact, you seemed a little offended that I interpreted it differently. You can't do that to people, John. If you are relaying a message to someone, you can't take what you heard, run it through your filters, and give your interpretation of what you heard. You have to give _exactly what you heard. _As a businessman, I am only too aware of the importance of communication. I know that the listener already has to interpret my body language and delivery and they don't need to contend with my rephrasing someone's words. This kind of mistake in my business could cost me the deal and millions of dollars. In this case, it may have cost me my relationship. If this were one of my mergers, the party at fault would be out of a job. Likewise, you're fired."

"I really wish you would reconsider, Christian. There's no reason to end a professional relationship that has thrived for so long so abruptly because of a misunderstanding. This can easily be rectified if I were to talk to Anastasia and apologize for my error." Oh, how wrong you are!

"I'm afraid that you can't fix this no matter what you do, John. Anastasia cursed you so badly that I'm not even certain that I could guarantee your safety if the two of you are in the same room." I respond.

"Well! That's hardly professional!" He says. I have to laugh a little at his arrogance, even though this is certainly no laughing matter.

"That's the problem. Can you even begin to say anything about professionalism after what you did today? Your superior attitude about this whole thing won't even allow you to admit that you made a mistake. You're blaming this whole thing on 'one's perception,' not 'your interpretation.' I doubt that you would even bother offering to apologize to Ana had I not fired you." He didn't bother denying it because he knows that I am telling the truth. "I'm actively looking for another shrink, John. If you have any recommendations, I am open to suggestions." I stand to leave.

"Christian, I really don't want to lose you as a patient. We have made so much progress and I would really like to see your journey from here on out." I can tell that he's sincere. Unfortunately, on a professional level, the damage is already done.

"I'm not saying that I am never going to speak to you again, John. However, as my therapist, I just can't reconcile that you were willing to dismiss something so important to me by just jumping to gun. I don't understand how you could have so grossly misinterpreted this; how you could have caused a misunderstanding, to make such an astronomically bad judgment call. I take responsibility for my own actions in this matter, don't get me wrong; but John, when I am sinking and I don't know which way I am going, I come to you and I trust you to guide me in the right direction. Today, you led me straight to hell. I understand that I have to deal with the consequences of my own actions, and I will. You have to deal with the consequences of yours as well. I'll keep in touch, but I'm not your patient anymore."

I really don't want to hear him grovel anymore because I'm not going to change my mind. It took a hard hand and an even harder shell to deal with the screwed-up clusterfuck of a man that I am, and I understand that completely. However, when a psychiatrist allows his own mistrust and judgment to affect the advice and guidance that he gives to his patients, he is treading on dangerous ground. I'm already fucked up—I can't have him fuck me up even further.

I get into my RS7 and briefly contemplate following Ana and Davenport. I know that she needs to be away from me right now, but I don't want her to think that I don't care.

_****Is she okay? ****_

I can't think of anything else to say.

_****Still alive, Sir. ****_  
Smart ass. The million dollar question.

_****Did she take off her shoes? ****_

_****Her shoes were off before we got to the parking structure, Sir. I think she may have twisted her ankle. **  
**_Shit! This is bad. This is really bad.

_****Does it look swollen? ****_

_****I can't say. She still won't let me near her. ****_

I was wrong. This is not bad. It's catastrophic.

I opt to just go back to Escala and wait for them. If she is in any kind of pain and she won't let him near her, things are worse off than I thought.

An hour later, Davenport is still telling me that Ana won't let him near her. The sun has gone down and it is getting chilly outside now. When I last spoke to him, he indicated that she had cried for quite some time and had gone completely catatonic. Just when I couldn't take it anymore and opted to go to Freeway Park to bring her home, Davenport comes through the door carrying my Butterfly.

Don't kill him. Grey. Don't kill the man.

"Why. Are you carrying. My girlfriend?" It's taking everything in me not to tackle him and snatch her away like a caveman.

"She's exhausted, Sir," he explains. "She wouldn't let me near her while she was conscious. I had to wait until she was damn-near falling off the bench." I take a deep breath and reach out for her, but Davenport makes no motion to hand her to me. Does he _want _me to kill him?

"Sir, before she went unconscious, she made me promise not to hand her over to you. She said that she would know if I did and that she would pack her things and leave tomorrow if I do it. Having said that, as you are my boss, I will hand her over to you if you request me to do so. Do you want me to do so?"

That's the one thing that he could say that would make me let him continue to carry my girlfriend.

"Take her to the bedroom, please," I say through my teeth. He nods at me and takes her to our room. She won't even let me touch her. I can't believe I allowed this fucker to convince me that Ana would betray me in any way. What the fuck was I thinking?

_**Present day...  
**_"The next few days were absolute murder," I say to Mia, recounting the memory of the days after I divorced John Flynn. "She slept in the bed next to me but slept as far away from me as possible, sometimes teetering dangerously on the edge so that I thought she would fall off. If I wandered too close to her in the middle of the night, I found myself alone in a cold bed, often awakened by one of my nightmares. One night I found her asleep in the television room, a sitcom rerun playing on the flat screen. After the first two days, I stayed up later and let her have the bed so that she could be more comfortable. I fell asleep at my desk a couple of times. She wouldn't say a word to me; she wouldn't even look at me, not even by accident. She knew that it was harder on me for her to be near me and not speak to me than it was for her to leave or move out. At least then I wouldn't have to look at her every day."

"How did you deal it if it was so hard?" Mia asks. By now we are all sitting on the patio sofas wrapped in coats and afghans as Ana and I recount our tale.

"It hurt," I confess. "It hurt like hell. She had completely shut me down. I tried to apologize to her, but the moment that I started talking, she walked away. It was mental warfare and she was a bigger master than I could ever be! It was like I simply did not exist. I have no idea how she could shut me out like that. It was like I was cut inside and literally bleeding to death." Mia looks over at Ana.

"I was hurt, too," she says softly and matter-of-factly. "I had promised that I wouldn't leave, that I wouldn't run away and hide, but I couldn't get past the pain. I have tried many times to explain what I felt but I've never been able to hit it right on the head. I labeled it conflusterbated. It's a combination of just about every bad feeling that you can think of served on top of a heavy dose of confusion. If you take every human emotion and introduce them to the body all at once, one of two things will happen—either you will go insane from the onslaught or you will become numb to it. I experienced both. My immediate reaction was insanity. Then, for something like 10 days, I couldn't feel anything. Nothing could get through. When I came to work, I could separate myself from what was going on and effectively do my job. When I got home, I shut down again. Nobody outside knew what was going on... not even you guys," she says to Mia.

"I'll say!" She says, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "So, what finally broke the ice?" Mia asks. Ana sighs heavily.

"We had been at a stalemate for several days... over a week. Like he said, he had pretty much given me the bed, so it wasn't odd to wake up and he wasn't there. I don't know what made me get up this night, but I did. I couldn't sleep, so I went to the kitchen for some orange juice. There were no lights on in his office so I just assumed that he was sleeping in one of the guest rooms. Now, I don't know if you had ever seen the security hub at Escala, but I hadn't. There are more monitors in that room than there are rooms at Escala. I could hear his voice coming from the room. I had shut down so badly that I didn't remember hearing his voice for several days. Do you know how someone's voice sounds when they are gargling?" Mia nodded. "That's how he sounded to me, and when I heard it, I just left the room. So when I heard his voice clearly this time off in this room talking to someone at 3:00 in the morning, I followed it. Now imagine coming into a room with upwards of 30 flat screen monitors in it, and every one of them has a different picture of you."

My little sister's mouth fell open and she looked to me for answers.

"It was all I had." That's the only explanation that I could offer. She looks at Ana again.

"I finally realized that he had no one to talk to. He was dealing with all of these new feelings and no one cared. True, I was dealing with some emotions, but emotions weren't new to me. What's more, I _chose_ not to speak about them. Christian was fighting this battle all by himself. Not matter what happened, he always had somebody to talk to. Either it was Flynn, or me, or even that horrible woman. Now he had nobody and he was actually going crazy. He had his hand on one of the monitors on my face, actually telling me about the day that he had before he fell asleep face down on Mission Control with his hand still on the monitor.

"My feelings were so conflicted at that moment. Part of me wanted to touch him and tell him that everything was going to be okay while the other part was occupied by this hollow, bubbling, boiling feeling like bile churning in your stomach. At that moment, the only feeling that I could identify besides sympathy was betrayal. I couldn't believe he thought I would do something like that to him. I didn't _want _to see him broken, but seeing him broken is what actually made me come to my senses. It took him a moment to register that I was actually speaking to him the next day. I could see it in his eyes, he thought he was hallucinating." Mia is still clearly stunned by this realization. She simply turns to me without a word, prompting me to continue the story.

"I got to a point where I wouldn't come into the room with her because it hurt too much. Imagine loving someone with every cell of your being. You can't touch them, you can't talk to them, you can't hold them... but you have to see them everyday. It's emotional torture. I was about to move out and let her have Escala. The only reason why I didn't is because I knew that I probably would have ended up in the hospital again and that would have pissed her off even more. I could see her and Mom coming at me guns a-blazing... literally! She's right, though. When she spoke to me, I was positive that I was hallucinating. At first, I didn't move my mouth. I didn't want to make a fool of myself, answering her when she wasn't speaking to me..."

"What did she say?" Mia asks softly.

"'We need to talk,'" I responded. "When I didn't react, she asked if I heard her..."

"It was a little scary," Butterfly interjected. "He shrunk back in the bar stool and he was looking at me like he had seen a ghost." She shivered at the recollection. "He finally acknowledged me and we agreed to meet for lunch since it was the middle of the week. I think it was a Wednesday..."

"It was a Thursday," I correct her almost too quickly. She looks over at me, a bit taken aback. Oh yes, Ms. Steele... I'm certain. "Thursday morning, August 23, 2012 at 8:19 in the morning. I was trying to eat a ham and cheese omelet with whole wheat toast and a cup of coffee and you were about to eat a plain bagel with cream cheese and strawberry jam. You were wearing a blue Coast Lana Jersey Dress—V-neck, sleeveless, draped in the front with a black belt, and blue Prada suede platform peep-toe stilettos." She's almost glaring at me now. Mia is stunned.

"And what were you wearing?" Mia asks. I know she's being facetious, but I remember that, too.

"Ermenegildo Zegna Australian wool Houndstooth made-to-measure double-breasted gray suit with a black and white textured tie and Caesar Picotti gray Balmoral shoes." I start to feel a little subconscious about knowing the details so well, but I can't help it. It was like a gift from God that she was speaking to me again and I wanted to remember every detail just in case she stopped again before the day was over. I didn't make eye contact with my sister or my girlfriend in case they were staring at me like a little green man from Mars. Their silence confirmed my suspicions.

"He's right," Ana said softly. I can hear regret in her voice. "I don't completely remember what I was wearing, but I remember the Houndstooth suit. We had lunch at Palomino and I remember because he ordered a meal and didn't eat it. That was the first time I had ever seen him do that in my life." Her voice is barely above a whisper.

"I had lumps in my stomach," I said, still not raising my head. "I didn't think the food would stay down." She swallowed so hard that I could hear her throat contracting. I look up at her and her eyes are filling with tears. I didn't mean to do this. I don't want her to hurt over this all over again. "It was a bad moment in our lives, Butterfly. It was my fault and it won't happen again. Please don't cry." Her glassy blue eyes blink a few times and she nods.

"I didn't mean to bring up a painful time, you guys," Mia says apologetically. Butterfly shakes her head.

"It's okay, Mia. The bottom line is that we got through it okay. It was rough... not the roughest time we've had, but pretty rough... and we got through it. So don't worry. Difficult times don't last always." Mia smiles sadly at her.

"Is everything okay between you and Ethan?" I ask, noting the obvious reason for the direction of this conversation. Mia shrugs.

"Yes... I'm probably just being all girly and stupid, but he seems a little distant since we found the apartment. I was telling Ana that we move in at the first of the month and it would seem that things are moving along great, but he just seems so damn distracted. I'm afraid that he might be changing his mind."

"Well, if he is, he's an idiot... and make no mistake that your brothers will have no problem reminding him that it wouldn't be a good idea to hurt you," I say with a wink. She smiles at me.

"Don't beat up my boyfriend, Christian," she says. "Besides, I wouldn't want him to stay with me out of fear." She rises and kisses me on the cheek before going back inside. I look over at my Butterfly who is now nervously playing with her hands.

"We shouldn't have brought this up today, I think," I say softly while caressing her hand.

"I didn't know it was that bad... that _I_ was that bad," she laments.

"_You_ weren't that bad, Butterfly. _I_ was. I let someone outside of our relationship who knew nothing about you influence my opinion and trust in you in the worst way. I can understand why you were so hurt, confused, and withdrawn and I wouldn't have blamed you if you never spoke to me again. I got just what I deserved, so please don't ever blame yourself for my behavior."

"I just... I never want to hurt you, Christian. I didn't know that it affected you so severely. I mean I knew but... I didn't know..." I wipe away a stray tear from her cheek with my thumb.

"I'll admit that it wasn't easy to deal with. I mean think about it—I'm accustomed to having everything that I want, when and how I want it, and here I am being denied something that I want on a cellular level. You were right there next to me in the same house and I couldn't even hear your voice. It made me realize how just how much I had hurt you. I hope your remember that I just didn't know what to believe at that time and that's why I fired Flynn."

"He did exactly what I was trying _not _to do. That's what upset me so badly. I know that you are a strong man, but you were still very impressionable in terms of emotion and trust. I didn't want to cross that line where your emotions and judgment were influenced by my professional expertise instead of my love for you. He took your trust in his judgment and used it against me and against you to impress his own opinions of a critical situation—and he was _completely_ wrong. That's the exact conversation that we had when he first met me and he did exactly what he insinuated that I was doing. I was horrified that he did that! It was not just unprofessional—it was unethical. What's worse is that I am sure that he saw nothing wrong with it."

I couldn't argue with her because she was spot on in that analysis. That's why I had to fire him. I was at a crossroads and he refused to recognize how delicate the situation really was.

"Did you ever rectify the _Helping Hands _situation?" I asked. She sighed.

"It was difficult since I couldn't tell Grace about what happened and I surely wasn't going to force you to confess something that occurred as a result of your therapy. We finally just agreed that he and I would not cross patients at all. I can't be responsible for the crazy advice that he may give to some distraught mother and unlike him, I can't impose my opinion of his intentions or abilities on anyone else. All I can say is that I hope his malpractice insurance is up to date!"

_Helping Hands_ almost lost a good therapist when Butterfly refused to work with John. She couldn't tell my mother why, she just refused to work with him and threatened to leave if there was no other option. I never told her that I talked to Grace while she and I weren't speaking and told her what John had done. We had known John for years and had only known Butterfly for a few months, but my mother was not willing to let her go. She had offered to bow out and let John stay, but Mom wouldn't hear of it.

He never assisted me in finding another psychiatrist either. He almost tried to retain my medical records instead of releasing them to my new psychiatrist. He was very bitter that I fired him. We finally got a recommendation from Maxine's office for someone who was accustomed to dealing with extremely delicate situations. I had to start all over with my life story until my Dad _gently_ convinced Flynn to release my medical records... in an official capacity, of course.

"The temperature is nicer than I thought it would be," Butterfly says rubbing my arms around her waist and changing the subject. "I thought it would be colder today."

"Maybe you feel that warmer because you are wrapped in my arms," I say. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at me.

"You could be right, Mr. Grey," she says seductively. I feel so lucky to be spending my Thanksgiving with this beautiful woman. I lean down and kiss her gently on the lips. I am lost in Butterfly's beautiful blue eyes when my trance is broken my my sister's shrill shrieking voice.

"Oh my God!"

Her cry curdled my blood and sent me nearly crashing through the patio doors as Valerie screams, "Ana! Christian! Come quick!"

* * *

_**A/N: **_

_**Typhoid Mary was a cook and a carrier of typhoid salmonella who thought washing her hands was an unnecessary waste of time. She kept changing jobs and, as a result, spread the typhoid disease for 11 years resulting in the deaths of an estimated 50 people, and then she was quarantined for 21 years until she died.**_

"_**Certaines personnes n'apprennent jamais."—"Some people never learn."  
"Tu m'étonnes!"—colloquial, more sarcastic way of saying "never would have guessed/oh really"**_

_**Well, my lovelies, in my usual Bronze Goddess fashion, I have left you with a cliff hanger. You expected it... admit it... but you still love me. **_

_**New Pinterest page for our new story can be found at pinterest . com /ladeeceo/mending-dr-steele/ (remove the spaces of course).  
**_

_**Love and handcuffs!  
Lynn x**_


	3. Still Thankful

_**Well, that was a pretty good launch! I got some pretty interesting reviews, too. I had so many people who told me that they were having withdrawals. What a wonderful welcome from you all! ! ! I've said it once and I'll say it again...you guys have REALLY made me feel loved! ! ! **_

_**Just to clarify a few things so that people won't get confused. The Pedophile's prologue is set in June of 2013—which is about eight months **_**after**_** our story actually starts. Our story starts in November of 2012 on the prior Thanksgiving. So you will get to see how she actually ends up in jail and what led Christian, James, and Ana to participate in the public service announcement that causes her so much grief. **_

_**I do want to address the guest that found it ironic that Ana has anger issues. You're probably right in that she probably shouldn't be so angry. I would go into the MANY reasons that this version of Ana is SO allowed to have anger issues—you know, beating, branding, and kidnapping to name a few—but instead, I'll just say this. If I were in this particular situation, and I have had two direct encounters with this guy (Flynn) and one indirect encounter and that final encounter resulted in my boyfriend getting flawed information from him and subsequently coming home and taking it out on me, I'd be throwing a lot more than dishes. ;-)**_

_**To Lauren—Girl, I have just stopped being concerned about who is going to play CG and Ana in the movie. First, we get favorites and hope they play the part well. Then we get a cast and people hate them and love them. Then we lose part of the cast and people are crying and screaming or going back to their old hopefuls. Then we get a new cast and people are happy/sad/angry about that. I give up... you just can't please everybody. Just play the roles well and maybe I'll love it. If I don't then fuck it. That's why I never put anybody in CG's role, because no one was ever my CG. We'll just see what happens. ;-)**_

_**To my guest who said (referring to Elena) "life's a bitch and you are one," OMG I love that line! Can I use that somewhere later? ;-)**_

_**Some of my guest reviews to the epilogue for "Paging Dr. Steele:" Ana (no crying, Darling! You are so sweet though, thank you!), Delusions, Hun, Lori F, Teresaromance (IKR!), and the guests that didn't leave a name—I love you all and thank you for coming back and/or joining me!**_

_**M**__**y reviews of chapter 1 and 2: Angela (good questions! Keep your eyes peeled—you never know what might happen), **__**Beachycolor (she's still very sensitive in light of all that she has been though; it's going to take some time to overcome it and she does acknowledge it throughout the story), Carol, **__**Gsue, Hun, Jamimini, Leah (thank you so much—many hugs to you!), Lorna X, Rachel, Rauguste (updates once a week for now until my schedule loosens up), **__**Teresaromance, Tingelblomst, and all of my unnamed guest reviewers, **__**you guys keep me writing—thank you! **_

_**I think I have covered everything now. On with our tale! All previous disclaimers apply.**_

_**Chapter 3—Still Thankful**_

_**STEELE**_

"Oh my God!" What the hell? Mia is screaming like the house is on fire.

"Ana! Christian! Come quick!" Christian has released me and has slammed the patio doors open to find out what is going on. I am scrambling behind him afraid of what I will see when I clear the door. My boyfriend freezes the moment that he clears the doorway that leads to the great room and I run into his back. His face is impassive.

"Oh God! Christian! What is it?" I ask, afraid. He reaches back and grasps my hand. He smiles and pulls me around in front of him.

Mia is sitting on the sofa, tears streaming steadily from her eyes and her hands covering her mouth. Ethan is on his knees in front of her, sitting on his feet, trembling a bit and smiling nervously. In his hand is a black velvet box and his eyes are trained on Mia.

"Oh. My. God!" I whisper as Christian pulls me to him and wraps his arms around me again, my back to his front.

"Mr. and Mrs. Grey," Ethan begins, never taking his eyes off Mia, "I am desperately and hopelessly in love with your daughter. If she consents, I humbly beg for your permission to ask for her hand."

I look over at Grace and Carrick. Grace reaches for her husband's hand and tears fall down her face. Carrick smiles at her and she nods.

"Yes. Of course, Ethan," Carrick says. "You have our blessing." Mia whimpers again under her hands. Ethan opens the box and Mia gasps and closes her eyes. Ethan takes a deep breath and says,

"Kitten, I do not have the words to tell you how much I love you and how much you mean to me. I am so full of adoration and wonder when I look at you—who you are, what you are, your kindness to others, your genuine beauty inside and out. I don't want to waste one more day pondering or considering if I want you to be mine forever. I love you and I know that I want nothing more in my life than to spend the rest of my days with you. Please say that you want the same and consent to be my wife. Marry me. Please, Mia."

Mia begins to weep almost uncontrollably. "Oh, Ethan, I love you so much!" She throws herself into his arms on the floor. "Of course! Of course, I'll marry you!" Her voice is muffled into Ethan's shoulder. He cradles her in his arms and peppers kisses on her cheek. I almost feel like a voyeur watching this tender exchange, but I am also very honored to be a part of it. Ethan releases Mia and puts the ring on her finger. She kisses him once more and starts to fan herself to stop her tears. Val dashes over to her and Ethan starts laughing. I kiss Christian's cheek and go over to Mia.

"See?" I say to her. "You were worried for nothing!"

"I told you he adores you, Mia!" Val exclaims.

"I feel so silly!" Mia says between tears.

"Man, why were you going to ask her before I came back inside? Were you just trying to take my sister away without even telling me?" Christian inquired, half playfully and half serious.

"Okay, that's kind of my fault," Val says raising her hand. "I think I may have caused poor Ethan to jump the gun."

"No, it was me," Mia confessed. "I came in crying like a damn fool after I heard Cwis and Ana's story and Val told Ethan that I was falling apart. So Ethan came in to see what was wrong..."

"... And I can't stand to see her cry," Ethan said, "much less to feel like she was crying because of me. I had planned to ask her at dessert and coffee when everyone was around, but my Kitten was in pain." He squeezes her hand and she smiles at him. He looks over at Christian. "Sorry, Chris, but tears trump brothers," he says with a shrug and the whole room laughs.

"Forgiven," Christian says, without missing a beat. I know he will turn the city upside-down to stop me from crying so he couldn't argue with Ethan's logic.

"I'm so sorry that I ruined your surprise, Ethan," Mia apologizes.

"Oh, Mia, it was lovely!" Grace says, "I think we need to open some champagne. This is a reason to celebrate!"

"It's only 3:00 in the afternoon, Mom!" Christian says with a smile.

"Yes! Three in the afternoon on Thanksgiving and my baby girl just got engaged. Oh, and don't think for a moment that I don't know that you boys have been drinking beer in the entertainment room. Who do you think put the ice bucket in there?" Grace says. I smile at Grace and turn to Mia.

"Let us see the ring, Mia."I say.

"Oh yes, of course!" She holds her hand out for me to examine her engagement ring. It's a beautiful single prong white gold ring with a round diamond—about 1.5 carats—flanked by two rolls of baguettes on each side of the ring.

"Oh, Mia! It's beautiful!" I exclaim.

"Thank you," she says shyly. Christian comes over to us and examines the ring.

"Not bad, Kavanaugh," he says nodding. Oh my God. The Christian Grey stamp of approval. That has to mean something. Mia playfully hits him on the arm. "Ow! What?" he says, feigning injury.

"It's _perfect, Kavanaugh!" _ She says, before sticking her tongue out at her brother. He smiles and pulls me into his arms again.

"Does it make you feel a little envious?" he whispers in my ear. I look over my shoulder at him. I know he is anxious for us to move on with our lives and every time he sees someone else take the next step, he starts to feel a little melancholy. I have to admit that I'm starting to feel it a bit, too. I put my hand on his cheek.

"Our time will come, Baby, don't worry. I'm very happy and I am wearing a lovely platinum and diamond ring on my left hand that tells the world that I belong to you. So I am not envious of Mia's happiness at all," I say, which is partially true, though I'm convincing myself that it's entirely true. I turn to face him. "... And you don't have to be envious either, because I love only you and I will be with you always. Our day will be beautiful when it comes." I smile at him and he leans into my hand.

"I love you, Butterfly," he says.

"I love you, too, Christian." I smile.

Moments later, bitter-pill-swallowing Liona comes out of the kitchen with another server following her—a gentleman that I've never seen before. They are both carrying trays of champagne. Liona walks straight over to Christian who takes two glasses and hands one of them to me. She doesn't linger this time like she usually does, noticing the Christian has me cuddled in his arms. Maybe she's finally getting the hint. I certainly hope so.

"Hey, you started the party without us?" I hear a familiar voice from behind me and turn around to see Ray and Mandy coming into the great room through the foyer."

"Daddy!" I say, handing my glass to Christian and hurrying over to greet my father. He grabs me in a big bear hug while I giggle, telling him how happy I am that he made it. He has been much more approachable since he and Mandy have been together and I have made a pact to be closer to him ever since the kidnapping. I plan on making the most of every moment. It's part of my therapy—and my recovery.

"You look wonderful, Annie," he says looking into my face.

Thank you, Daddy. You look great," I say softly, and he really does. He looks at least ten years younger since he's been with Mandy. Speaking of which, I kiss my father on the cheek and send him over to Christian and the Greys while I greet Mandy.

"Mandy, I'm so glad that you could come. You look fantastic!" Many is wearing a ribbed cashmere gray dress with a cowl neck and she is complimenting the dress with boots that I would literally _kill_ for!

"Oh my God, are those the Balmains?" I say quietly.

"Yes!" she whispered conspiratorially. "Do you know how long I had to save up for these boots?"

"Yes, I do. Girl, I just gave up!" We laugh. They really are lovely boots—lovely, embroidered, black, gray, and gold Lurex $2000 boots, that is. I really did give up saving up for them!

"So..." she says. "Our first Thanksgiving..." I can tell that she's nervous as she examines the opulence that is the Grey family home. I take her hand.

"Don't worry. The Greys are wonderful people—very genuine. Just be yourself. Everything will be fine." I squeeze her hand and lead her in to meet the Grey family. She and I have also gotten closer since Ray and I have vowed to keep up with each other more closely. Since she lives here in Seattle with me, we have gotten together for lunch or a manicure so that we can get to know one another better. She really is a sweet woman and from what I can tell, she really cares a lot for my father.

"You've all met Mandy," I say, leading her into the great room. As always, Gracious Grace welcomes her with a hug and the nervousness fades immediately.

"So," Dad says jovially, "besides the obvious, what are we celebrating?"

"Ah, you are just in time." Carrick says as the male server returns with two glasses of champagne for Dad and Mandy. Why does he make me so uncomfortable? "We are toasting the engagement of this young man to my beautiful daughter, Mia."

"Well, congratulations, Mia," Daddy says.

"Thank you, Mr. Steele," Mia says blushing.

"Please, Mia. Call me Ray, and may I meet the lucky fiance?"

My dad is interacting very well with the Greys, which is really a change for him since he's usually such a private person. Christian stays close to Ray, who engages in conversation with Mia and Ethan with Mandy close by chatting with Grace. I'm very happy that they are all getting along so well and look so happy conversing with each other. I take a sip of my champagne and notice the male server from before lurking just beyond the dining room door. I take a moment to observe his features. He has brownish-red hair with green eyes and he's quite pale. From a distance, he looks to be 5'10" and I can tell that he works out a lot. What's most striking about him is that he's currently staring at me. I take a sip of my champagne and frown a bit. Is he new on staff here? Is he temporary just to help with Thanksgiving dinner? Why is he staring at me and why is he giving me the creeps?

"It's good to see him loosen up, isn't it?" Val snaps me out of my thoughts.

"Yes. Yes, it is," I say, shakily taking a sip of my drink. Noticing my demeanor, Val asks, "What is it, Steele?" I look beyond her to her the dining room door where the male server once stood, but now he's gone.

"Have you seen this guy that's passing out drinks and serving? Pale ginger, about 5'10"?" I ask.

"I haven't paid much attention to him, but I've noticed that there's a new guy serving. Why?"

"He gives me the creeps," I say. "Every time he comes in the room, I get the fucking willies and just now he was staring at me!" I say sternly and quietly.

"Well, what do you plan to do?" She says after eying the same empty spot that I am as if waiting for the creepy guy to reappear.

"I don't know yet. I don't want to get some guy in trouble because I've got the willies, but after the David fiasco, I trust my instincts before anything. It could be nothing, so for right now, I'll just keep my eye on him."

"I will, too, okay?" She winks at me. Just as we make our deal, Creepy Guy comes out and announces, "Dinner is to be served in the formal dining room in 15 minutes."

* * *

Dinner was fantastic. Mandy was able to bond a bit with Val as well as with the Grey women. Christian stole several glances at me through dinner as Mia and Ethan discussed the biggest event of the day—that being their engagement. I want Christian to learn to deal with emotions a bit more before we take the next step. He, of course, wants things to happen immediately—not only because he wants me, but also because he has the same fear that I have. He fears that he is going to wake up one day and this will all have been a wonderful dream—well, the wonderful parts of it anyway. I understand that, so I am constantly reminding him that he means the world to me and that I love him dearly.

Things have gotten _so_ much better since he started seeing the new psychiatrist. Her name is Sherrill Baker and she came highly recommended by Maxine. That was a difficult experience. I had to tell Maxie the basic framework of Christian's situation as well as give her more details into our relationship than I was ready to share. I know more than anyone that this sounds a little odd to say the very least. After all, the woman is my therapist. However, Christian and I are both trying to define our relationship as well as find our own trail through the confusion. So having to explain it to someone else—particularly someone that you consider a friend—can be very difficult.

Even though Maxine has to be open-minded about different lifestyles, her first concern as my friend and as my therapist was that I was being abused or taking part in activities against my will. I understand that concern since so many people already have the wrong idea about a BDSM relationship and because my closest friends would probably never see me as a submissive in any way, especially after David kidnapped me—which led to the second issue. Maxine expressed concern that my relationship with Edward as well as the horrendous branding experience as a child could have had a masochistic effect on me—or at the very least, could have stamped a masochistic vision in my head.

This time, I felt that _she_ was grasping at straws. We are taught to question, which is why I initially gave Flynn the benefit of the doubt, but we are not to draw conclusions based on our own biases. Our patients are already fragile, so we must be careful not to lead them in the wrong direction. Based on her prior knowledge of me, Maxie could not see me in a subservient position. She assured me that she would ask this question of any person who not only had such a tragic occurrence in their life, but also who practiced a BDSM lifestyle of any sort. She admits to not knowing enough about the lifestyle to be able to make any kind of judgment on it whatsoever and I appreciate that. Admit that you are out of your realm and then we can delve deeper and come back with a plan of action if we need one. I have always trusted Maxie's judgment and treatment, which is why I sent Christian to her for a referral.

To avoid any miscommunication _again_, I went in with Christian for his first appointment with Dr. Baker. We explained the reasons that we were there to see her and why he had fired Flynn. The hardest thing for me was discussing our fallout. I felt so betrayed that he thought I would do something like that to him and I really didn't know how to handle it in context. Christian was more concerned with me not talking to him than he was with _why_ I wasn't talking to him—something that Dr. Baker informed him that he had to correct and understand. She and Maxie are both helping me with this "get-angry-shut-down" reaction that I have. Christian and I still have a bit of a ways to go, but our journey is well underway now. I know he wants us to move along more quickly, but we have really made some impressive strides in the last two months.

Various family members are wandering around the great room, the foyer, the den, the dining room and other parts of the house just celebrating the laziness of the day. Mia has cried herself into a need for a short nap and has left her fiance at the mercy of her father and brothers. I wander into the kitchen for some water and I find Liona there working on something on the far counter. She doesn't hear me come into the kitchen, so she doesn't turn around. At first, I just turn to leave and opt to return for water later. Then I realize that I am allowing someone to chase me out of the kitchen of my boyfriend's family home. Now I could care less if this is kitchen help or the fucking Queen of England—nobody is chasing me away.

"Excuse me," I say politely to gain her attention. She turns around to see who is speaking and her original pleasant expression is quickly replaced with a snarling glare. Bitch, I will beat you like a thief. "I would like some water please. Do you mind helping me?" She sighs heavily as goes over to the cabinet that holds the glasses. After removing a tumbler from the cabinet, she goes over to the refrigerator, fills the tumbler with ice and then water from the dispensers, then slams the glass down on the counter in front of me—not hard enough to break the tumbler, but hard enough to spill some of the water. Then she turns around military-style and marches back to her station, continuing with her duties.

Dear Lord, please bless me with the strength not to leap across this counter and commence to beating a hoe down.

I clear my throat to get her attention, and she ignores me. I clear it again, loudly and rudely. Don't let me have to do it a third time... She gets the idea and turns around to meet my narrowed eyes.

"Look, I'm not going anywhere. I'm here to stay and I'm going to be around a lot. I'm sorry if I crushed your ambitions, but whatever little Cinderella hopes and dreams that you had, you need to do away with them and get on with your life because that little 'gimme' earlier is the first and the last time that I'm going to cover for your rudeness." She looks down her nose at me.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she says in a pissy little voice. Is she facing off against me? Seriously? She must think I want to play. I have nothing to prove to her.

"No? Okay." I turn around to march out of the kitchen. I don't need to play this game. I already have the prize.

"Ms..." she calls out to me before I leave the room. "Dr. Steele, I apologize." The words come out of her mouth like Jalapeño peppers mixed with grapefruit juice. I generally have a thing about insincere apologies, but I know what it took for her to do that.

"Listen to me," I say walking back over to her. "Know that I am not trying to make you heel!" I hiss at her softly. "I have no desire to see you grovel. It does me no good and that's not the type of person that I am. I just will not allow you or anyone else to disrespect me. I feel bad for you that the man that you placed your hopes on fell in love with me, but I don't apologize for loving him and I will not be treated badly for it. I did nothing to deserve it." She drops her head.

"I understand," she says, sounding chastised. I sigh heavily. "No," she begins, looking up at me, her gaze pointed and sharp but non-threatening, "I understand. I don't like it—but I understand." Her voice was a little sharper than I liked, but I got more than I expected.

"So, we won't have another problem?" I ask.

"No... we won't," she conceded, her voice still firm, but sincere. Her head drops immediately and I know he has walked into the kitchen. I must ask him...

"Butterfly?" he says, his voice suspicious. "Everything okay?" He looks from me to Liona.

"Everything's fine, Christian," I respond. Liona never lifts her head. She just goes to the far end of the kitchen and proceeds with her work.

"Is she giving you a hard time?" he asks, glaring at her back before he turns to me. "Mom says if she gives you a problem one more time..."

"Everything's fine, Christian," I repeat, "though I do have a question for you."

"What's that?" I pull him to the edge of the doorway away from Liona's ears.

"Was she ever your submissive?" His eyes get large and now he's glaring at me.

"She was never my anything!" he spits. "Why would you ask me that!?"

"She takes that submissive stance like a pro every time you're around," I say without hesitation. He has that aura that screams _Dominant_ and I've seen it bring many women to a submissive or semi-submissive state of mind, but none like Liona. Once in a while, she'll smile fondly at him, but most often she's in sub mode when he comes around. "Could she be someone else's submissive?" I ask. He looks across the kitchen at her while she's working at the counter.

"I suppose she could," he says, examining her, "but I doubt it."

"Why do you say that?" I say, my curiosity piqued by his observation.

"... Because the way that she salivates over me ever since she's been working here, her Dom would be beating her ass every night." I frown. Good God! That sounds horrible!

"What? How would he... or she... even know about it?" I ask horrified. Christian sighs.

"The way a true submissive is trained, a Dom would know," he says matter-of-factly.

"Do you think that she has been without—or even with a Dom—but she recognizes you as a Dom..." which would be why she keeps dropping her head when she sees you? He looks at her again and shrugs.

"I guess she could be. It's certainly not impossible, but I still don't think so."

"Why not?" I ask.

"She's too pretty," he responded. Huh!? What does that mean—only dog-faced girls are subs? He must have read my expression because he had to clarify. "Okay, first of all, let's face it—she's pretty. We can agree on that, right?" I nod reluctantly. Get to the point, Grey. "_That_ pretty, she would definitely have a Dom—unless she did something so horrible that no one wanted to be her Dom, in which case, I would know about it. I don't, so she's not between Doms. Second, she's been ogling me for years. If during that time she had a Dom, he would have known who she was working for, he would have known that she was ogling, and he would have asserted himself over her on a regular basis. She would know who was Master and it wouldn't have been me. She may have exercised the submissive demeanor in my presence, but there would be no flirting, no eye-fluttering, no smiling, none of that. She would spend every moment acting as if her Master was watching, because he _is_. Her eyes are _his_ eyes and she sees everything she does, and she wouldn't dare lie to him. She would dress in a plain and professional manner unless he instructed her differently. There would be no make-up, none of that low-cut uniform shit, and those big, blonde curls that you see every time we come over wouldn't be there. Her hair would be in a simple style—probably a ponytail or a bun—and that top would be the right size instead of two sizes too small, and buttoned up to her neck. That skirt would come down to her knees and you just may get a look at what her real skin tone is. Every time she knows that I'm coming to my parents' home, she looks like a super model, not a member of our staff. How do I know this? Because if it were you, and you were my submissive working for the family of a young, handsome, billionaire businessman, I'd have you dressed like Ma Kettle." He doesn't flinch or blink when he says this whole spiel and I just glare at him for a moment.

"Ma Kettle, Christian?" I say disgusted.

"Hell, yes. Ma. Fucking. Kettle. With those plump round tits and that delectable ass, you better be glad I didn't say a nun's habit." He turns around and leaves the room without a word, again, without flinching. What did he come in here for anyway? I look over at Liona who is still tending to her duties at the counter with her back to me.

"Ma Kettle!" I say to myself as I leave the kitchen, completely forgetting my water.

* * *

I'm taking a quiet moment alone in the library next to the fire. Everyone has somewhat disappeared in different directions and Christian went to his father's study to address an urgent overseas issue. I am sending emails to Max and Al about the plan of action for Black Friday and reading the emails about their Thanksgivings. I'm remembering Thanksgiving from last year as I watch the fire crackle. It was kind of special, but pretty much the same as prior years. The Scooby Gang got together at Max and Phil's and ate and drank ourselves senseless before going home very late and falling into a food stupor. Then of course, Max, Val, Al and I hit the Black Friday sales at 6:00AM the next day and spent our Christmas Club savings, after which we always had a late lunch at Matt's In The Market followed by a spa day at Ananya Spa Seattle. Since we are shopping with the Grey family, our locations will be a little more controlled and closely monitored and our spa day will be at the now under new management Esclava Luxury Spa and Salon.

I love the fireplace in this room. It's so cozy and warm. I have my legs thrown across the arm of one of the big armchairs, my bare feet swinging and occasionally catching the warmth from the fire on my toes. I'm lost in the flames, in the thoughts of last Thanksgiving and shopping with my friends, in the anticipation of making new memories with new friends and—dare I say—family. His voice interrupts my thoughts.

"Is there any particular reason why you are lurking in the shadows staring at my girlfriend?"

I sit up and turn around to see Christian glaring accusingly at Ginger Creepy Guy who is positioned off to the side in a dark corner next to one of the bookshelves. I never would have even known he was there. How long _was _he there, anyway?

"What the fuck...?" The words were out of my mouth before I had a chance to catch them.

"What's your name?" Christian asks, his voice eerily cold.

"Louis, Mr. Grey," Ginger Creepy Guy answers.

"Well, Louis, I know from having been raised in this house that staff is not supposed to occupy the same areas as the family unless they are on duty and have a purpose for being there. This is especially true on holidays since we normally have guests. Since you are kitchen staff, I am certain that you have no reason to be in the library—and judging from Ms. Steele's reaction, I'm also certain that you weren't bringing her a snack! So I'll ask you again—what are you doing here and is there any particular reason why you are lurking in the shadows staring at my girlfriend?"

I'm curious to hear his answer myself, but all he manages to give us are some stuttering half sentences and jumbled words.

"Sir, I... No, I... I was just... I didn't..." Christian sighs heavily.

"I suggest that you go and find out where you should be right now and what you should be doing. In the future, it would serve you to refrain from sections of the house that you should not occupy unless you are specifically instructed to do so, but more importantly," Christian is in his face in three long strides. "...It would be most beneficial to your employment and your health to stay the fuck away from my girlfriend... Louissssssss!" Christian's voice and glare are so sharp that they even scare me. Any other time, I would say that he really is overreacting. This time, I say that he's spot on.

Louis looks from him to me and back to him and attempts to mumble something like an apology. Seeing that Christian is unmoved, he walks quickly out of the library and off to parts unknown. Christian looks over at me.

"Is there some kind of hiring process for new staff in your parents' home?" I ask him. He looks at me strangely.

"I'm not familiar with the hiring practices for staff here. Maybe I should talk to my parents about it," he says.

"I want you to check him out, Christian. Run a background check on him or whatever you do to make sure that someone is cleared to work for you." I say. His eyes get large. "Something's not right about him. He makes me nervous and the fact that he was all stalkery in the corner just now... I don't even know how long he was standing there!" His expression darkens.

"Do you know him from anywhere? Does he look familiar to you at all?" he asks.

"I've never seen that man before in my life that I can remember," I say and he nods.

"Alright. I'll talk to my parents and see where he came from. Then I'll have Welch run a background check and see what comes up."

"Good. I don't know what's going on with that guy, but he's been looking at me weird all day," I confess. Christian's gaze sharpens.

"Why didn't you tell me before now?" He barks, walking over to me.

"Because I didn't want you to go all psycho!" I respond.

"You know how I feel about your safety, Butterfly, especially with the publicity of the trials being prepared. I wish you would tell me about these things," he scolds.

"Yeah, so that you can harass everyone that looks at me for more than a second? No thanks. I wanted to be sure before I said anything, and now I'm sure. So run a background check," I say finitely. He growls under his breath.

"Woman..." he says menacing.

"Man..." I say mimicking his tone. He shakes his head and pulls me into his arms.

"One day, Ms. Steele. One day."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Promises, promises," I say before pressing my lips into his.

* * *

_**GREY**_

"Why would you want to know that, Christian?" Dad says sitting back in his recliner in the den and taking another puff of his pipe.

"You're a high profile family, Dad. Even without my influence and exposure, you and Mom are well known in the social circuits and on the red carpet. Couple that with a rich, influential son and you can get any number of cuckoos trying to get close to you... to us. I would just rather be safe than sorry."

"We've been using the same service for many years to acquire our staff," he tries to assure me. "We've never had a problem before."

"There's been a lot going on with the people close to me, Dad. Us, Ana... Elena..." I hiss her name as it burns my mouth while departing my lips. "We could be targeted by anybody. We can't do things the same way that we have for years. If we stay predictable, we become a target. I need you to humor me on this one. If nothing comes from it, then we're all set. If something come does come from it, then we can nip it before anything happens."

"What do you think will happen, Christian?" My father, the attorney.

"I really don't know exactly. He rubs me the wrong way and I don't take any chances since Ana's kidnapping." My father is a hard sell. I'd like to do it with his knowledge but there are ways to do this behind his back if he doesn't help me.

"I don't want you harassing and defaming this man because of a traffic ticket, Son." Good grief, who does he think I am? Have I really been _that_ bad?

"Really, Dad? Do you honestly think I would do something like that?" I ask, clearly affronted.

"When it comes to Anastasia, yes—I think you would do anything." How did he know? I never said anything about Ana.

"I wouldn't let anyone cloud my judgment, Dad, not even the woman that I love—but you are correct in that I am fanatical about her safety. Why would you say this was about Ana?"

"... Because you get a specific demeanor about you when it comes to her, much like the specific demeanor that you get about you when it comes to business but different, and make no mistake, Christian—your judgment is _completely_ clouded by the woman you love. You think it's not, but it is. Don't fool yourself and don't take what I say with a grain of salt because I speak from experience." He casually puffed his pipe and waited for my response. So... he's speaking from experience—not from anything to do with Ana. It makes me wonder what has happened to make him say that. I have strange visions of my father getting into barroom brawls over a young and very attractive Grace Trevelyan. Very well, Father, I won't play games.

"Since you read people so well, Counselor, I'm sure that you have drawn an independent conclusion about Anastasia." He looks at me curiously.

"I have," he says.

"Your analysis?" I ask. He frowns.

"I don't know what you mean. Would you care to clarify?"

"Her judgment—do you trust it? _Would _you trust it?" I ask impassively.

"Yes. She has impeccable judgment. She is wise well beyond her years." I nod.

"I'm glad you said that... because she's the one that asked for the background check," I inform him and his face pales.

"May I ask why?" he says.

"She said that he creeps her out. She said that there's something not quite right about him and that she can't put her finger on it. I will openly admit that I planned on doing some kind of background check on him anyway, but she suggested it to me before I had the chance to take any action. One way or another, I'm going to get some information on this man, Dad, but it will be a lot faster and easier if you help me." Carrick looks at me one more time, then beckons me to follow him to his study. I sit across from his desk in the wingback chairs that face him while he fires up his computer. He taps away at it for about three minutes and then goes to one of the half file cabinets behind his desk. He removes one of the papers and hands it to me.

There is a picture of Louis. His last name is Millfeld. The paper includes his address, Birthdate, height, and social security number—more than I hoped for. I type the information into my blackberry then take a picture of the picture and send it to Welch. I would have taken a picture of the whole form but I was afraid the information wouldn't come out clearly. Welch will know to get on the background check first thing in the morning. I told him to put a rush on it since this guy is working for my parents and was hiding in the corner quietly stalking Ana in the library.

I haven't told Butterfly yet but I'm going into the office tomorrow for a few hours while she and the ladies—and Allen—go shopping. I am finalizing the paperwork on the Esclava Salons. The bank got word of Elena's arrest and the morality clause that GEH enforced, so they called in all of their loans. Since their liens took precedence over my contract—which I knew that they did—the salons were seized and auctioned. I bought the business from the bank at a discount since my large bid was more than the piecemeal bids. I sent someone to place the bid for me and once I won, I put Mia in charge of managing the salons. She is in a profit share agreement with Franco at her side, who has kept the salons running all of this time while Elena was unable to enter the premises. She is still unable to enter the business as I have enacted a no-contact order against her and she cannot come near me, Ana, our family or any of my businesses—Esclava being one of them. As originally intended, my portion of the profits are all diverted to Helping Hands. The banks allowed the salons to remain open while we solidified the deal, so tomorrow when my ladies and Allen go into the salon, it will officially be Grey-owned.

As I stayed downstairs for a while talking to Carrick about the progress of Elena's upcoming trial, Butterfly has fallen asleep without me. I was very proud of her today. She was quite the semi-hostess when it came to Ray and Amanda. I know that she was nervous about our families spending the holiday together, but she is taking it in stride. I know that something happened between her and Liona, which is why she asked all of those strange questions. I might have been a little brusque with her when I left the kitchen. I think I may have taken the questioning a little personally. It's a side effect of managing these newly-discovered emotions. I have no problem dealing with adverse situations with my business—even situations that others would consider emotional. However, these new _feelings—_with my family and Butterfly—that's a whole different animal. Dr. Baker is helping me deal with my emotions—to understand them better. This is one test that I am anxious to pass as I am itching to ask Butterfly to marry me. Though I am aching to make her Mrs. Grey, I understand why she wants to wait.

I sit at my desk and watch her sleep. I can't help but think about the _last_ time she asked about someone being my sub. We were in the Marketplace—somewhere that I rarely go because I have no reason, but I went this time with Butterfly and who do we run into?

"_Well, hello, Sir," I hear a voice say from behind me. I turn around to see Greta standing there in a pair of jeans so tight that I can't see how she can even breathe. She is also wearing a cutoff shirt and no bra, so you can see the naked mounds of the bottom of her breasts. I might have found this alluring inside my penthouse if this were Butterfly, but out in public it just looks tacky. What is she doing? She looks like she's selling herself to the highest bidder!_

"_Ms. Ellison," I say coldly. _

"_Oh, you _do_ remember me," she says seductively. _

"_I'll admit that you are quite memorable. What can I do for you?" _

"_I was just over there examining the...melons...when I saw you and just thought I would come by and say 'hello.'" She glances over my shoulder then gently touches my hand. "It's been a long time," she whispered. "I never got the chance to show you all of my talents."_

"_... And you never will!" I say, slapping her hand away from mine. "...And don't ever touch me again."_

"_Oooo, testy! I see Elena was right... you've lost the touch," she taunts._

"_Quite frankly, I don't give a fuck about what that pedophile thinks, and if you care at all about your standing in the community, you shouldn't either. I suggest you find yourself a new pimp." That hit her where it hurts. All of the color leaves her face. Looking over my shoulder again, she says, "I see you've downgraded... quite sad." She is still trying to maintain some kind of upper hand. _

"_On the contrary," I hear Butterfly say behind me, "it looks to me like he's taken a lady over a hoe. I'd say that's a definite improvement."_

"_It would do you well not to speak that way about my girlfriend," I say. _

"_What are you going to do... spank me?" she purrs. _

"_You wish!" Butterfly says. _

"_I won't, but she might, and you won't like it," I warn Greta. She scoffs at the statement._

"_That little thing?" she teases. "I'd squash her like a bug." Butterfly hands me her wares and walks over to Greta. _

"_Make a move, S_ub_. Let's see if Elena told you anything about _me,_" Butterfly says to her. Greta's pupils constrict at the title. _

"_I see _Sir_ hasn't told you everything about _me. _I'm also a Domme!" she says in what I think is her Domme voice._

"_Am I supposed to care? You're not _my_ Domme. Like I said, make a move!" Butterfly invites. She looks at Butterfly who stands there confidently waiting for Greta to react, then responds, "No thanks. I really don't have time for a public brawl."_

"_Oh, we can take it to the gym anytime you like," Butterfly says with a smile. Greta laughs coyly. _

"_I'm too sophisticated for that," she says wryly. Butterfly folds her arms. _

"_Oh, really? … But you're not too sophisticated to walk around in public with your bare tits hanging out," Butterfly counters. At her statement, several people turn to look at Greta. "Are you trying to find a man, Honey? If you are, there are plenty looking at you now. Just try to find one that doesn't belong to someone else." She possessively takes my arm and I cover her hand with mine. _

"_I can have any man I want," Greta says seductively looking at me. _

"_Except me," I respond, looking at her coldly. _

"_I can have you, Dear. You just don't know it, yet. Once you've tasted this, nothing else will do," Greta boasts._

"_Is that why you're standing here advertising yourself in the marketplace?" I ask, appalled. "What happened to all of the _other_ men who have _tasted _that? Why aren't you with them?" _

"_They bore me and I want something better," she says reaching up to touch my face._

"_Touch me and I'll break your wrist!" I say using _my_ Dom voice. It does the trick. Butterfly clenches my arm and Greta turns pale. "I'm going to take my girlfriend and go now. This conversation is getting old. Don't come near me again." I lead Butterfly away and we get to the RS7._

"_So...which one was _that_?" Butterfly asks very coolly. I can tell that she is displeased about the public confrontation but it appears that she wants to hold me accountable for it._

"_That _one_ was Greta," I answer just as coolly and my sarcasm doesn't get past her as she turns to glare at me, a warning of caution evident in her eyes. "Greta was hoping to be my sub, but she was declined for a much better option." This answer didn't please Butterfly at all. I could see the questioning in her eyes and she finally made it verbal. _

"_Really? Do I even want to hear about the better option?" she nearly snaps, jealousy prevalent in her tone. _

"_You might. The better option was you," I say flatly. Her eyes soften immediately and fill with obvious shame before she drops her head and stares at her lap. I pause for a moment to let it sink in a bit. I want her to feel that shame; I want her to feel the impact of the silent false accusation that she was imposing upon me. After a few moments, I put my hand under her chin and lift her head so that she could look at me. _

"_I am a Dominant. I have had women before you. They were all somewhere here in Seattle. My previous subs have all signed non-disclosure agreements, so I don't expect any of them to say anything to you, but that doesn't mean that they won't. Greta never told you that she was my sub. She never even told you that she was vying to be my sub, but you figured out that something was up. What are you going to do when and if one of my actual previous subs approaches you?" She doesn't respond. She just continues to stare at me with guileless blue eyes. "We are seeing a therapist to help me deal with my emotions. It seems that you may need to deal with something, too. You know how to handle Elena because you hate her and she abused me, but you don't know how to handle a woman with whom I've had a relationship and it simply ended. That's something that you may want to examine, because it may happen... and, please, if you're going to feel anger towards me—repressed or obvious—please let it be for something that I actually did." I don't take my eyes away from hers. I can see them get a little glassy with the threat of tears before she softly says, _

"_I'm sorry." _

_I press my lips gently against hers and move them to her cheek and her jaw. _

"_I love you," I whisper in her ear. _

"_I love you, too," she squeaks, her voice heavy with unshed tears. I kiss her cheek again, start the car, and drive back to Escala._

I knew when I said those words to Butterfly that day that I was both quite justified in my feelings as well as a big fat hypocrite. On the one hand, I didn't want her to be angry at me for no reason when she should have been angry at Greta for her obvious display of tastelessness. However, my reaction to Louis this afternoon is proof that no one can even look sideways at my Butterfly without incurring my wrath. I think there's a slight difference in the situations, though, in that I was not angry with Butterfly as a result of the undue attention that she was receiving from Mr. Millfeld. She, however, was quite salty with me about the unwanted attention from Ms. Ellison. So I stand by my original belief that I was completely justified in my feelings.

I crawl into the bed behind her. I want to make love to her, but I know that she will be rising early with the ladies to get a head start on the Black Friday shoppers. I move her hair away from her face and gently kiss her ear and her neck. She whimpers softly and snuggles back into me, her body fitting perfectly against mine. This woman is femininity incarnate, the composition of everything perfect about Woman... and she is mine...

… My Butterfly.

* * *

I made sure that the ladies were all gone before I went in to GEH. Maybe I could get in there and get back to Bellevue before they returned. My first meeting was with the members of the bank to sign the papers finalizing the sale of Esclava. Thankfully, that task was completed very quickly and the deal was done. Next, I touch bases with Welch about the background check on Millfeld, which he assures me that he will have by Monday. This makes me happy.

"Any more news on any of our developing situations?" I ask.

"I got the inside information that you wanted on Whitmore's shady dealings. Your hunch was right. He could be selling insurance to the richest people on earth and still not be able to live the life that he's living. You're looking at embezzlement, insurance fraud, Ponzi schemes, elderly scams, ghosting... you name it, he's got his hands in it. He's worse than Madoff. The only reason why he's so damn cocky is because he has never been caught. He's been doing this for years. His entire fortune and legacy is built on being a crook. I've checked and double-checked where his money trails begin and end and luckily, there are no big players involved that can cause you any problems, but there are quite a few little players involved. If you time his exposure and downfall with Sullivan's, you will see quite a few rats running from the sinking ship that is about to be Green Valley."

"Excellent," I say, almost wanting to rub my hands together like the villains in the old silent movies. "Butterfly will be very pleased to hear that. What about the names that I have given you?" Welch pulls out his iPad.

"You're going to want to go to the network," he says. I haven't even checked the network for a couple of days. I've been too busy with the holiday festivities. I go to my file on the network where I have the information on the projects that I am working on...

"Third Quarter Projections"... then "Probabilities"... then "Information." Inside that file are two very important projects—"PFB" for "Project Free Butterfly" and "PDP" for "Project Destroy Pedophile." I open "PFB."

'Wow. You've been busy," I say to Welch.

"No more than usual, Sir," he says. The file now has the current whereabouts of Mary Wiseman, Rhonda Yick, Lane Mulligan, and Vesta Evans—all people that Butterfly indicated were sidekicks of the main girl. The last sidekick—Simone Pallister—was killed in a car accident a few years back. We already knew the whereabouts of "Michael and them guys"—Michael Underwood, Brian Maleham and Justin Roundy. Like Simone Pallister, Richard Swanson and William Wood have both gone on to meet their makers in violent ways. Swanson was shot in a robbery gone bad and Wood was stabbed several times by a woman scorned. The file also indicates that Cody's flunkies—Randall Marshall, Timothy Leahman, Joseph Kulp, and Blaine Nelson—are all still among the living. Finally, we have pinned down the whereabouts of those who were _definitely_ involved in Butterfly's attack and the subsequent cover-up—Vincent Sullivan, Kevin Van Dyke, and Carly Madison.

I couldn't be more pleased that we were able to lock down some, if not all, of the main players in Butterfly's attack. I know that she will be pleased, too. We put this particular plan of action on hold while we were dealing with our personal relationship and since we are on much better footing now, I thought it was time to at least see where the vermin were hiding. With Butterfly's blessing, I have already notified the Nevada Attorney General as well as Internal Affairs in the police department of Sullivan's gross mishandling of Butterfly's case. Let _them _figure out why he didn't do his job. A veteran Henderson cop taking the perp walk will certainly make the news... even if it's only local news. I have the Google alerts alive and waiting for his arrest at which time the FBI, IRS, and the Nevada Attorney General's office will get evidence of Whitmore's shady dealings and possible involvement in the cover-up of the attack on Anastasia. Again, the NAG may not be able to act on the evidence, but after arresting Sullivan they certainly can't ignore it.

Being a man of means myself, I know that the worst thing that you can do to a wealthy person is to take all of their money away. They can't function without it after having functioned _with _it for so long. So the first thing I plan to do to all of these entitled fucks is to bankrupt any of them that may still have money or have made their own fortunes. If they are still living off Mommy and Daddy's money, then I will bankrupt Mommy and Daddy. My reach and power goes far. Short of tickling the feet of the mob, I will bring every one of these fuckers down.

I have wisely sent Lawrence, Davenport and Manchester with the ladies and Al today while Williams has come into the office with me. He doesn't know my moves like Jason does which proves to be a bit troublesome when I get a call from him that there is an attorney in the lobby that refuses to leave until he speaks to me. Apparently, the attorney is here on official court business and will report to said court if any of my security team interferes with him in any way. Damn it! Allen is out shopping with Butterfly. I call up to legal to have Marshall come down while I see what this situation is all about. Once he is there, I have Williams bring this mystery attorney up to my office. Williams takes his place at the side of my desk in the same manner that Jason would if he were here.

"You seem to need quite a bit of security, Mr. Grey," the tall, young man says while entering my office.

"That's none of your concern. What do you want?" I ask flatly.

"Hmm, straight to the point." He reaches into his jacket and Williams takes two steps forward, also reaching into his. I'm starting to like this guy more and more. The attorney looks over at Williams.

"Is he threatening me?" he asked.

"No. He's protecting me. I don't know who you are. Did any of you gentlemen hear this man introduce himself... or just come into my office talking about my security?" Who the hell is this guy? Did he _just _graduate from law school?

"Oh. I'm Elvis Stanford." He slowly pulls his hand out of his jacket and brings some papers out with it. "I represent Elena Lincoln and you have been served." He throws the papers down on my desk.

"You've got to be kidding!" I'm nearly laughing. After I have legally orchestrated her losing everything that she has, now she's going to try to sue me? "Not that it really matters but, on what grounds?" I say as Marshall reviews the papers that Stanford dropped on my desk.

"Breach of contract," he says rather smugly. I look over at Marshall who quickly scans the subpoena then shakes his head to tell me that the lawsuit isn't worth the paper that it's written on. I stand up from my desk.

"How did she manage to convince you to throw yourself in front of a charging bull, young man? Do you realize that you are about to go up against one of the most powerful men in the country?" I ask.

"Yes, I do, and I plan to win." His bravado is practiced, not earned. She has convinced him that she has a case against me, and I know that she's only doing it to get my attention. Since I filed the restraining order against her, she hasn't been able to contact me at all for months and now she is getting desperate. Her court date is drawing near and more evidence is piling against her. She's pulling every card that she can and she knows that there is no way in hell that she can win this one.

"Let me educate you," I walk around my desk and stand in his face. "I could go to court without a single attorney and beat this farce of a lawsuit all by myself. Luckily for me, I don't have to, because I have the best team of attorneys that money could buy. Now, I don't know if she has fucked you or whipped you into believing that you can beat me, but you are sorely mistaken." His face turns pale and he has shown his hand. He's one of her subs. Silly fool. "That contract was iron-clad and I followed it to the letter, and you will be hard pressed—and I mean _very_ hard pressed—to find anyone _anywhere_ that will testify otherwise. She was arrested and I enforced my morality clause, at which time her creditors exercised their rights as primary lien holders and called in their debts. I purchased the businesses free and clear from the bank. Anything beyond that is hearsay. Is there anything unclear about what I've said so far?" Stanford has started to sweat a bit, showing his hand even more, but has not responded.

"I will assume as an attorney, you comprehend what I have said so far," I continue. "Now let me make something perfectly clear. I have paved my road to wealth with sniveling little opportunists like you who have tried to carve their name in stone at my expense. I never have nor will I ever be intimidated by your kind. I will drag you through the mud and my attorneys will make sure that this ridiculous lawsuit goes on for so long that even your grandchildren won't be alive to collect a fee should the ground beneath me open up and swallow me whole and you manage to win. I will bury you and destroy your reputation with this frivolous bullshit and believe me when I tell you that I will be first in line to watch you ask 'Do you want fries with that.'" This idiot is shaking now. "So if you like, we can go to court, Mr. Standford—me and award-winning team of attorneys, and you... defending an accused pedophile who will most likely be in jail very soon with no way whatsoever of paying you your fee. Let that simmer on your grill for a while. My attorney has your summons. You can go now."

I stand there glaring at him, waiting for him to move. He seems frozen to the spot and I am certain that he is another one that she has primed since his teenage years—attractive, dark hair, powder blue eyes that almost look white, younger than me. Another Christian clone. At least this one finished school, but he's about to make the biggest mistake of his life. I would feel sorry for him if he hadn't just walked in my office all cocky like he was about to teach me a lesson. He still hasn't moved from his spot. I don't think he can. I lean in to him and say in his ear,

"Did you know I was the favorite pet?"

A look of sheer horror comes over his face. He knows exactly what I'm talking about. "Look at you and look at me," I continue. "Look at her accusers. Notice anything? No one could ever prove it and, again, I'd bury anyone who tried, but I'm telling you—get out. Get away from her, for your own good. You don't want to be linked to a convicted pedophile because she _is_ going down—and you don't want her to drag you with her. Get out while you still have a chance, Kid." He trembles a bit while looking at me, sweat now pouring from his temples.

"Mr... Mr. Grey... I'm sorry, Sir. You'll never hear from me again." He hightails it out of my office to the express elevators.

"Sir," I look over to Williams who has called me, "the front desk indicates that Mrs. Lincoln is standing across the street watching the front of the building."

"Is she now?" She wants a show, I'll give her a show. I quickly make a copy of the summons giving the original back to Marshall. "Hold on to that in case young Stanford all of a sudden grows a set of balls." I quickly take the express elevator down to the main floor and stride out the front door. There she is...standing across the street. Where is she getting the money to stay so well primped? Fresh dye job, yet more new funeral garb and she's just standing there with her arms folded and a smirk on her face. I hold up the copied summons from my side of the street, place my hands together at the top of the pages, and rip the document in half just as Stanford is coming out of the parking garage and speeding off down the street. I dramatically watch him drive away, leaving the Pedophile standing across the street staring at me. When I turn back to look at her, she is paler than I have ever seen and that smug smirk has been wiped off of her face. I open my hands and let the November wind take the pieces of the summons into parts unknown, hoping that one would serendipitously land at her feet... but no such luck. It wasn't necessary—she knew what it was.

"You're violating a restraining order," I say loud enough for her to hear me. "Leave now. I'm calling the police." I turn around and walk back into GEH without another word. By the time, I get back to my office, I am notified that she had left.

* * *

_**A/N: **_

_**The auction—when someone's business assets are being auctioned to meet the responsibility of a creditor, there is first a large bid. The large bid is based on the total assets in the business and is usually less than what they are worth as a whole but hopefully more than what the assets would be worth individually. Then there is an auction of the individual items in the business. Usually, the real estate is auctioned separately, but for the sake of continuity, we will just assume that they were auctioned all together. If the piecemeal bid beats the large bid, then everyone takes their little items and goes on their merry little way. If the large bid beats the piecemeal bid, then the person with the large bid gets everything—winner take all. **_

_**There are a couple of pictures for your review on the Pinterest page at pinterest . com/ladeeceo/mending-dr-steele/ (without the spaces of course). **_

_**You can also join my mailing list at divinebronzegoddess gmail . com (also remove the spaces) to get updates on the publishing and to follow my blog.**_

_**Please review!**_

_**Love and handcuffs!  
Lynn X**_


	4. Umm--SURPRISE

_**To the guest that sent me a warning - I didn't post it only because I didn't know if you wanted me to or not. It seemed like more of a personal message to me, but thank you VERY MUCH for letting me know that. It's good to know that someone has your back and is looking out for you. I will keep my eyes open and heed your warning. Thank you again! ;-)**_

_**To Alexia - Thank you for joining me and thank you for your review! I was just thinking that same thing that we might have to make that happen... ;-)**_

_**To sclark4—Thank you for your review! I tried to respond to you but I got the message that private messaging was denied. You might want to go check your settings. I try to respond to every review and didn't want you to think that I forgot you. ;-)**_

_**To the guest who asked about Greta - Thank you for your review! In the original story, yes, there was a "Greta" that was employed by the Greys that was smitten with Christian. In my story, her name is Liona. This Greta was the one that wanted to be the sub of choice in Book I and thought she had it in the bag. I didn't realize until rewrites of Book I that I had hijacked the name from the original book (oops!). ;-)**_

_**To The mean guest (love that name!) aka Dot - Thank you for your review! You know, if I put you in my head, I think you would be afraid, lol. The easiest way for me to explain the easy transition is for me to tell you that I am very empathic and I would always put myself in the place of the character and talk out how I would feel. When it comes down to the male point of view, I have a fantastic relationship with my husband and I bounce ideas off of him quite often. I'll already know where I want the story to go and occasionally if I get stuck, I ask him how he would react to something - especially when it comes down to how something feels sexually. Unfortunately, I can't empathize with having a penis, lol. When it comes down to the psychos (Edward and Elena), I just use my imagination. I often talk my scenes out in a voice recorder and type them later. There is a whole lot that goes into my stories, but that's pretty much the bones of it. ;-)**_

_**To annadv23, Angela, Carol, CG Girl (glad to be back! And yes, you said it right), Hun (those things had me thinking too - hmmm, who is he?), Greta (IKR? And someone is going to have something to say about that...hmmm), Jaimini, Leah, Lori F, May of Rose, Michelle b (glad my girls kept you occupied in my absence. There are some really great writers out there), OBNURSE, Rachel, Teresaromance, Tj (Thank you, Darling!), Zora (hmmm...I wonder), the guest that asked about Ana getting the big ass diamond (lol - I loved that), and all of my guests that I can't PM - thank you very much for taking the time to review.**_

_**I haven't been able to read as much as I want since my schedule has changed, so every so often I will grab a chapter in those "personal" moments (don't ask) and right now, I am reading a story called "Wonderland" by ohsweetnightingale that has me on the edge of my seat. It starts out angsty, so if you can't take it, don't read it. However, the author promises an "HEA" so I say go check it out.**_

_**I also want you all to go check out "Ana's Shades" by OTB. I've only read a few chapters of it so far and it's looking pretty good as well. I'm hoping to catch up on it this week, but go show my girl some support. It had me pulled in at Chapter 1!**_

_**All previous disclaimers apply to this chapter!**_

**Chapter 4—Um...SURPRISE**

_**STEELE**_

We have hit the stores hard. When I say hard, I mean _hard_! I have definitively finished my Christmas shopping unless there is someone that I have conveniently forgotten. We haven't yet settled how we are going to do Christmas yet, but I'm certainly hoping for a larger-than-life tree in Christian's—I mean _our—_larger-than-life great room. I have sent Manchester back to Escala and Bellevue with our more expensive wares since we will be spending the entire afternoon at Esclava and won't be needing so much security. I found that I was in for a couple of surprises.

The first surprise occurred when we drove up to "Esclava"... or at least to what I _thought _Esclava.

I am looking up and down the street for the "Salon to the Stars," and I can't seem to find it. The rest of the parties in my group are just as dumbfounded until Chuck directs us to the building directly in front of us.

"Oh, you _must _be kidding!" Mia and I say aloud. We were in the right place, of course. I would have never found the Esclava Luxury Salon since painted prominently on the window and door is the establishment's _new _name.

_Miana's_.

"That's pretty catchy," Al says, and I glare at him. I look over at Mia who shrugs.

"Works for me. It's pretty unique," she says.

"You don't mind?" I ask. "I mean, I have nothing to do with this place."

"Why would I?" she says. "I kinda like it!"

"Well... okay. Let's get plucked!" I say as I lead the charge into Miana's Luxury Salon.

"Mia, Bella! You are here!" We are greeted by a jolly looking Italian man the moment we enter the salon. Whether he is actually from the old country... not sure about that, but he's friendly enough.

"Franco! Lovely to see you again!" Mia and the jolly Italian exchange cheek kisses. "You know my mother, Grace, and these are our friends Valerie, Maxine, Amanda, and Allen." Franco greets everyone with a smile and a bow. "... And last but not least, this is Ana." Franco gasps dramatically like he has been waiting his entire life to meet me.

"Ah, Ana! So lovely to finally meet you!" He kisses my hand. "You are the twinkle in Mr. Grey's eye! Come, we take care of you." God, he's really happy.

We spent the day in the wonderful lap of luxurious pampering. Since we have the fundraiser tomorrow night, we have all been plucked, soaked, trimmed, primed, waxed, cleansed, steamed, massaged, polished, and moisturized within an inch of our lives. Just as we were finishing up, I heard some ladies gossiping about how I wasn't pretty enough to be on Christian's arm. I had heard them talking for quite some time, but I didn't know that they were talking about me until they mentioned Christian. I discovered that they were patrons and had no idea that I was in the next room. Mia wanted to go nuclear on them, but I just let them talk because I realized that there were jealous women all over the city and state if not the country that felt exactly the same way and I just did not have time or desire to set every last one of these poor delusional women straight. I just figured looking good and living well was good enough for me.

However, Hurricane Mia simply wasn't having it. Right after our waxing, we stepped into the "general" area and came face to face with the women that were badmouthing me. I have to admit, although I'm certain that God loves all of His creatures, these two left a _whole_ lot to be desired.

"Oh, you've _got _to be kidding me!" Mia exclaimed upon seeing my critics.

"Mia..." Grace warned in that way that I have _so _become accustomed to hearing.

"No, Mom, seriously! Look at them! These _trolls_ have the nerve to insult Ana?" she asked, shamelessly pointing at the two not-so-attractive women who had been speaking unkindly of me.

"Oh. My. God. Mia, please... don't. It's okay," I say, trying to stop her from further berating these poor women, to whom nature had already not been too kind. They were glaring at her at first until it slowly became clear who we were.

"No! It's _not _okay!" Mia's says, her nostrils flaring. "Not that I would appreciate _anyone_ talking about you that way, but in the looks department, Doris and Mable here have no right to talk about anybody at all." Oh Heavenly Father, she just compared these two poor women to the Ugly Stepsisters from _Shrek_! Allen shamelessly burst out laughing while all of the ladies are trying—and failing—to hide their snickering except for Grace who is simply shaking her head. I mean, what can you possibly say after that?

"It doesn't bother me anymore, Mia. I've heard it all. There's nothing that they can say that can hurt me. Besides," I look over at Thing One and Thing Two, "it looks like they've been punished enough!" Not realizing that they have just been further insulted, their Royal Uglinesses rise to try to smooth over their foupah.

"Please, Ms. Steele, we're so sorry," one of them says. "Sometimes our mouths just get away from us." I shake my head.

"Please, don't apologize," I begin sweetly, "because you're not sorry. You're embarrassed and humiliated, and you should be. You were talking badly about me and didn't know that I was in the next room, but it's like I said. I've heard it all. It doesn't bother me anymore. So if it makes you feel better about yourselves to talk about me, be my guest." I smile at the ladies and proceed over to Franco.

"Bellisima, Ana! A thousand apologies!" he says after witnessing the exchange. "You like me to throw them out? I throw them out right now!"

"No," I say flatly, looking back at the stunned women. "They're paying customers, it's fine." Grace comes over to me.

"Ana, though I don't agree with my daughter's tactics, it's really _not _fine," she says kindly.

"I agree, Grace, it's not fine—but I'm not hurt and I'm not going to let it bother me. Look at the wonderful man that I would be missing out on if I let stuff like that get to me? I am _so _over it. Besides, whose opinion counts here? I have wonderful friends and a wonderful family. My boyfriend has a wonderful family who accepts me. Who are _they?_" I say pointing at them. "I'll probably never see them again in my life. They are so many bigger fish to fry." I immediately think about the struggles that Christian and I are facing and the trials that are coming up—who cares about Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber over there? "Let's just go. I'm ready to see my boyfriend." I turn to Franco and thank him for wonderful services. I foolishly pull out my credit card to pay for my treatments.

"Bellisima! I will be unemployed tomorrow if I take your money!" He kisses me on the cheek. "Now, shoo!" he says sweetly, waving me away with a smile.

"You're a gem, Franco," I say, matching his smile before leaving the salon.

We are back at the Greys' and I am absolutely starving! We have done enough shopping to put several commissioned salespeople through college and it is very late afternoon now. Anticipating our return, the kitchen staff has set up several fruit and antipasto trays for us. I come into the house ready to see my boyfriend, only to be surprised that he is not here.

"Where's Christian?" I ask, and none of the gentlemen are forthcoming with answers, not even my father. "Hello? Where's Christian?" I look from face to face to face and realize that no one is going to tell me where he is. That's when I realize that I don't need them to tell me. That fucker is at work. "I should have known," I say, turning to leave the family room and go back to the counter. I put some of the antipasto and fruit on a plate and take a drink with me to Christian's room. I'm hungry, but I need a bath to relax a bit. I have to admit that I'm feeling a little forlorn that my boyfriend decided to work on the day after Thanksgiving, but I shouldn't be too upset since I spent the whole day shopping and at the spa. After all, this is what he enjoys, right?

I eat my pre-dinner snack while I run myself a bath. I can't help but think about the things that the Troll Sisters were saying about me. The things that people say don't bother me anymore, but they do make me think about all of the things that Christian and I endure to be together. He brought Elena into my life and I brought Edward into his. We both have a shitload of baggage and unresolved emotions and issues. I hate to feel like our tale of sunsets and rainbows is too far off in the future to become reality. I'm beginning to understand how he was feeling in Anguilla, especially when I hear the things that people say about us... about me, and the reasons that I am with him. I love him. I really love him. I just don't want to have to spend my life convincing the world of that—not that I should even have to, but when a young multi-billionaire is the one that truly makes your heart sing, you find yourself constantly telling people that the tune you are hearing is _not _"For The Love of Money."

I pin my newly-trimmed hair up and slip into my bath. I am trying a new cucumber-melon bath oil. It's a different kind of heavenly than my lemongrass citrus, but heavenly nonetheless. I needed a change a while ago, when I all of a sudden felt like the things that were safe and familiar just weren't so familiar anymore...

_**One month earlier...**_  
"I feel like the universe has let me down." I say to Maxine during one of our more intense sessions. I all of a sudden just felt so forlorn with everything that had happened in my life up to this point.

"Those are very strong words, Ana. Why do you feel that way?" Maxine asked. I hate sounding like the Melba Sornsons and the Flashdance Thatchers, but I know that our own personal problems are bigger than anyone else's. Why? … Because they are _our _problems! Now, I've never been one to cry the "woe me's" and I truly feel like my story is much more tragic than anyone else's that I've heard in group therapy—except maybe Stoley—but if these "losers" and "whiners" felt even half as betrayed as I do by fate right now, then now I know why they whined so much.

"I was a straight-A student. I even skipped a grade. I never gave Carla one bit of trouble even though she never did one thing in her miserable life _just_ for me. I never deliberately hurt anybody in my life. My mother took me away from the only home I've ever known and separated me from a father who adores me. She took me to a place with a stepfather who didn't even like me and sent me to a school where everyone detested me. I threw myself into my studies and did two years worth of work in one calendar year.

"I was well on the fast track to graduation when a selfish, spoiled, entitled little bastard took me to the desert and raped me then left me there. Because I didn't want him to get away with it, I was branded a liar and a whore and then I was beaten damn near to death and branded literally when I was 15 years old. _Fifteen!_ My mother never came to the hospital and my Dad rescued me and took me back home—back to Montesano, back to Al, back to peace—and what happens? That selfish bitch comes back and gets me so that I could spend my last childhood years in torment and exile so she could make a few bucks.

"I finally escape and come back home and fall in love with a crazy, cheating loser. I let his ass go and move on with my life and as soon as I fall in love with the _right_ man, this same loser kidnaps me and has the nerve to claim 'insanity.' I just keep asking myself why. Why did this have to happen to me? Why are all of these bad things happening to me? I'm a good person. I haven't done anything to anybody that would warrant something like this happening to me, but bad things keep happening to me. Granted they haven't happened back to back to back, but who can say that they have been raped, beaten, burned, abandoned, and kidnapped all in a matter of 11 years?"

"I wish I had an answer for you, Ana. You know as well as I do that sometimes bad things happen to good people. We can't explain it. We don't like it but I'm one of those people who believes that there is a reason in the universe for every occurrence. Do you feel that way...in general anyway?"

"I don't know," I say shaking my head. I used to think about things that way, but now, I'm not so sure.

"Well, let's try to look at things another way." She shifts in her chair. "Your mother left your father and took you to Vegas to a place you didn't like with a stepfather that didn't like you and a school that thought you weren't good enough, correct?"

"Pretty much," I sigh.

"Because of that more than uncomfortable situation, you accelerated your classes in your freshman and sophomore years to complete classes to graduate early." She paused for a moment to let that sink in. "Next, you were horribly brutalized and raped, but then Ray came and rescued you. Unfortunately, Carla and Steven came to Montesano and dragged you back to Henderson. Again, because of the discomfort of the situation, you accelerated your classes again and graduated early, even after you had lost one semester." I see where she is going and I'll just let her finish.

"You hightailed it out of Vegas and came back to Washington, landed a scholarship and... what did you major in?" she asked.

"Psychology," I said softly.

"...And why did you do that?"

"...Because I wanted to help people work through their pain and difficult times... in an effort to help myself."

"Are you not one of the most caring and successful young psychologists in the Seattle area with a waiting list as long as my arm?" I nod. "Are you still confused that everything happens for a reason?" I shrug.

"It's a strong argument, Maxie. Very strong, in fact, but still not strong enough."

"Okay, but you didn't let me finish. Because you became a psychologist, you started doing group therapy. As a result, you took on a volunteer job at a certain community center. While you were there, you met the love of your life in the form of a troubled, shut-off, arrogant young billionaire and I would venture to say that as a result of that same meeting, Valerie has met her match as well," she says triumphantly and I am nearly stunned into silence. "Before these terrible things happened to you, were you thinking of going into psychology?"

"I can't even remember what I wanted before these things happened to me," I say, a tear escaping my eye. I am wrought with confusion. Was I meant to go through this horror just so that I could meet Christian? Couldn't there have been an easier way? If that's the case, doesn't it stand to reason that Carly and Cody and all of those chicken-shit bastards did me a favor? No. I absolutely cannot wrap my head around that way of thinking. "Maxie, stop." I choke out between my tears. She hands me a box of tissue. "By your logic, I should be grateful that these fuckers brutalized me because it started a chain reaction that led me to meet Christian."

"Oh absolutely not! You have every right to be pissed off at those notorious cowards, but you never let what they did to you hold you down. You took every bad situation in your life and made something good out of it. My concern is that you never really dealt with it. You only just told me about it a couple of months ago. Had anybody besides me ever heard the full story before then?" I shook my head. Allen has heard a lot of it and I am sure that he filled in the blanks on the rest. David never asked... and now I know why. Dad didn't want to pry and I didn't believe he could handle the whole truth anyway, so I just spared his feelings as much as I could. "This is why you reacted so violently when Christian started looking into your past. You have never put those ghosts to sleep and you thought they were resurrecting."

Should I tell her about mine and Christian's plans to reap havoc on the Assholes of Green Valley? No, I shouldn't. I know that I am withholding valuable information that could be crucial to my treatment, but we are going to do this. Nothing will give me more closure and satisfaction than to see those bastards pay for the pain that they caused me—no matter what all of the textbooks say—and even though we aren't planning anything illegal, Maxie needs plausible deniability in this instance. So I will be keeping these plans to myself. I will certainly get the justice that I was denied when this group gets what's coming to them. Even if I don't get them all, the hell that we plan to unleash on the ring leaders and the participants that we have identified will send a message loud and clear to the rest of them!

"So what does this line of thinking say for the kidnapping? What was the grand purpose of this?' I ask through my tears.

"Unfortunately, we haven't seen all of the fallout from that, yet, but one thing's for sure—he's not abusing any more women and Al has assured us that his defense is full of more holes than a volleyball net," she responds.

"That all depends on the jury," I say sternly.

"Well, if he gets off or not, he'll be a pauper and you'll be a rich woman."

"Oh, yeah. That's what it all comes down to... I _so_ want his money!" I say, more sarcastically than I intended. Maxie is silent for a moment and I can feel her staring holes in my head as I stare at my stilettos.

"Have you given up, Ana?" she asks, firmly and waits for her answer. _Have_ I given up?

"No," I say sharply.

"Then act like it!" she spit. My eyes shoot up at her. What the fuck? "As your therapist, I'm going to let you know that just like you didn't do the pity parties in your group therapy, I don't do the pity parties one-on-one. As your friend, I want to know what happened to the Ana that I've always known. You're saying that the universe let you down. The universe didn't let you down, Steele. You get out of the universe what you put into it. And I can't tell you what crazy cosmic scale was tipped that these horrible things happened to you. No, you didn't deserve them—but they happened...and you didn't die! You fought through them, you _lived_, and you came out an exponentially better person for it, if that's even possible. Pick your head up off the floor, stop feeling sorry for yourself and do whatever you need to do to recover from this situation. You've got a wonderful man who loves you who just happens to be a hot, rich, handsome billionaire; need I mention the whole 'successful and sought-after psychologist' thing again, and what's more, Carla's so jealous, she could spit! She may have gotten $750,000 for your misery, but you got the golden ticket, Baby! Welcome to the chocolate factory!" I frown at her.

"Jealous? Do you think that's what it really is?" I ask incredulously. "How can she be jealous of _me?_ She had total control of my life until that last year when I just didn't care what they thought. I _wanted _them to get fed up and send me away. I would have spent an extra whole year in high school in Montesano if I had to just to get away from them. My life was miserable—how could she have been jealous?"

"Because your most triumphant moments never included her," Maxie said flatly. The shock hits me like a ton of bricks. I think hard... and then I think harder. She's right! None of my best moments include my mother... none of them! "You graduated from high school quite early. Was she there? You graduated from college and became a doctor. Did you see her anywhere? A moment that should have been tragic was actually triumphant because one of the richest men in the country—quite possibly the world—put out a public plea for your safe return and she didn't even know that you were dating him. When you were rescued safe and sound, she was on the first thing smoking to get to the hospital to make her presence known. She couldn't do that when you were 15 and alone, fighting for your life. Oh, but she was only too happy to show up once she discovered your billionaire boyfriend only to have you ceremoniously dismiss her from your life—not once, but twice. Oh, and how ironic was it that you took Ray by the hand calling him 'Daddy' and leading him into the hospital room while leaving her standing in the hallway to deal with the wall of men that wouldn't let her through? She's chomping at the bit, believe me."

I get a sort of perverse thrill knowing that my mother is jealous. It so makes perfect sense. How long has she felt this way? Since I've been an adult? Since I was a teenager? As far back as early childhood? I don't know. It would make perfect sense. Daddy fell out of love with her but he still loved me, even though I wasn't his biological daughter... and she took me away from him. She so easily snatched me back to Vegas after he had rescued me and I was putting my life back together. When I was double-promoted, it was Daddy that was there. When I got my degrees, it was Daddy in the audience. When I was hurt and in the hospital, it was Daddy by my side—both times. Carla was nowhere to be found. She never once showed me any true affection. When Stephen said that I treated her badly, he unknowingly interpreted her attitude towards me! All of my tender parental moments have been with Ray... not with Carla. Ray even knew about crazy Edward who, even though it turned out disastrous, was my first love—but Carla didn't know. What did I ever do to her to make her so spiteful?

"Well, at least there's that!" I say disdainfully. Hateful old broad comes to Seattle to now try to live vicariously through me after she hasn't done anything kind or selfless for me in her whole miserable life.

"Dr. Steele, are you taking joy in your mother's misery? I've never had you pegged for Schadenfreude." She teases.

"In this case, I'll make an exception," I say, drying the rest of my tears from my face.

"Well, depending on your interpretation, it may or may not be a healthy outlook," she warns. "Taking joy in others' misfortune could turn you into a bitter old woman."

"Not just others'... _hers!" _I say definitively... and a few other people that I can think of, too. "I never did anything to her. I was a kid. Why does she hate me so much?"

"I don't think she hates you at all, Steele. I think she hated what you may represent in her eyes... all of her failures." Maxie points out. I glare at her.

"Okay, even with my fancy education, I don't understand how I could represent failure. I did everything a kid was supposed to do... even when they didn't appreciate it."

"I didn't say that you represent failure. I said that you represent _her_ failures." Okay... clarify please, Dr. Saunders. "She had you at a very young age, which means that she may not have gotten to sow her wild oats or live the life that she thought she could live because she was a young mother now. Then your biological father dies days after you were born. So now she is without the love of her life, but she is left with this living, breathing reminder that she must care for. Next, she meets this wonderful man in Ray who not only wants to love her, but also gives her child his name. This should be a good thing, except now she has to share him with you." Good God, how fucking selfish can you be? I was a kid for fuck's sake.

"I know what you're thinking, Steele. I can see it in your eyes. It's not logical, so don't try to make it logical. It's always been all about Carla and I'm just showing you how." Okay, shut up and listen, Steele. "Whenever something happened with you, she was never the center of attention... you were. When you received awards or hurt yourself or had a moment with Ray, she couldn't stand it. You were suffering irreparably and she couldn't see it. She couldn't feel it. Ray loved you and even after there was no more Ray and Carla, he still loved you. So far, you represented everything that she couldn't have or complete. I wouldn't be surprised if she got with a man that didn't like you specifically because he didn't like you... he was the one thing that she knew you couldn't 'take away' from her.

"Any other mother would have been screaming for justice at the top of her lungs if her daughter had claimed that she had been raped—no matter the consequences. She didn't even go with Stephen to confront the boy's parents. She let you suffer the humiliation of the rape and then the subsequent pain and ostracization that followed the attack all alone. She may not have known _exactly _where you were all of these years, but she knew where you were—make no mistake. She knew that you came back here to Ray, and it wasn't until she saw that she had an opportunity to be in the spotlight that she even pursued you. You turned her down flat at the hospital and she showed up at the penthouse—completely unprepared and unwilling to take 'no' for an answer. She acts as if she has a variation of Münchausen syndrome."

"I truly wouldn't care _what_ she had. After all that I've gone through, I just don't want to see her again," I sigh.

"As your therapist, I have to say that is unhealthy behavior, Ana," Maxie points out.

"There's more to that statement," I note.

"As your friend, I say 'fuck the bitch,'" she adds. We both laugh at the statement. I know she's right, that I can't hold this hatred in my heart for my mother forever. I was fine with stoic indifference until the bitch showed up at the hospital four months ago. I mean, hell, where was she when I needed her... and I did need her, I really did need her. She wasn't there for me then—what makes her think I want her to be there for me now?

I'm grateful to be able to talk to this out with Maxie; to not hold in my anger and spite anymore because quite frankly, I still very much plan on reaping revenge on those people who have hurt me...

Those bastards from Green Valley—absolutely!

Edward fucking David—oh, you know it!

Carla and Stephen Morton—I haven't made up my mind yet. The selfish bitch did give me life but then she seems to have dropped the ball after that.

"I'm going to take joy wherever I can get it. I've been a good girl... a _very _good girl. With everything that has happened to me, I understand why a once-law-abiding citizen would turn to a life of crime. I'm not saying that I'm going to go out tomorrow and start robbing banks, but if taking a little bit of joy in the fact that Edward David is currently rotting in a jail cell and that bitch is living the life of a pauper while I'm being pampered like a queen in the lap of luxury helps me to tolerate the fact that they get to breathe the same air that I do, then Schadenfreude it is!" I declare victoriously. Maxie laughs aloud.

"That's actually not too bad considering the alternative," she says smiling. "How do you feel?"

"Still a bit resentful, but not so much like the universe is against me," I say. "Thanks, Maxie."

"Anytime, Hun. Do you want to talk about Christian?"

We ended that particular session on that note. I didn't want to talk about Christian in my sessions. I talk enough about Christian in the joint sessions with Dr. Baker. I realize that it looks like I just didn't want to do joint session with Dr. Flynn and I will admit that to some degree, that may have been the truth. However, it only took one session with Dr. Baker to realize that if Christian was going to get through these feelings, he was going to need my help and participation. I don't know if Flynn could have explained this to me and I would have listened, but most likely I wouldn't have. He treated me like an outsider. He made sure that I felt like I wasn't welcome; like I was invading on this secret club where only he and Christian were members. I'm getting visions of the scene from The Little Rascals where after a big disappointment and a broken ego, Spanky started the He-Man-Woman-Haters Club. Flynn is not a woman-hater himself—at least I don't think he is—but he banked on Christian's anti-social behavior for the rest of his life, thereby securing his meal ticket...

...until I came along.

At least, that's how I see it, because that's how he treated me. Sorry to burst your bubble, Flynn.

_**Present Day...  
**_The water is getting cold and I think I may have dozed off thinking about the long road Christian and I have traveled in such a short time, both alone and together. I open my eyes and there's someone leaning against the counter with his arms folded watching me. I blink a few times until my eyes come into focus and, not that there was any doubt, it's Christian.

"Hi," he says softly.

"Hi," I respond.

"Your water's cold," he says.

"How do you know?"

"Your bubbles are all gone." He reaches for one of the bath blankets on the linen shelf, opens it and walks over to the bathtub. "Come on. I know you're cold." I didn't want to admit that he was right, not to mention that my skin is getting pruney. I stand and step out of the tub and walk into the bath blanket. He gently wraps it around me, drying the parts of me covered by the towel. He takes a smaller towel and begins to dry my legs and thighs while I wrap myself in the bath blanket. He stands and continues drying my shoulders, arms, and hands then lifts them to his lips, gently placing kisses on my palms. He looks into my eyes and asks, "Are you still upset with me?"

"Why would you think I was upset with you?"

"I can tell, Ana. Was it because I went into the office today?" he inquires.

"I'm not upset with you, Christian," I say softly. I'm really not upset with him, though I'm not at my happiest just now. It's probably because of all of the introspection and I really don't want to talk about it.

"Please tell me what it is," he asks. Hell if I know! How do I tell him that I just needed to see him this afternoon—just needed to be with him—and he wasn't here? He was at GEH minding his business. What kind of disagreeable bitch would be angry about something like that? I just have to wrap these stupid, needy feelings up and shove them down the garbage disposal where they belong. The problem is that I've never been any good at faking it, and this is one of those times that Christian is just going to have to leave me be.

Apparently, he got the message.

He takes the clip out of my hair and let my hair fall down my shoulders. "You trimmed your hair," he says running his fingers through it.

"Too much?" I ask. I didn't think so.

"No," he answers, still running his hand through my hair. "It's beautiful... very soft..." He's caressing my scalp now and his fingers feel good. I close my eyes and enjoy the feeling; accept that even though he wasn't here earlier, he's here now. I let his presence soothe the uncertainties that have plagued me all day—the disappointments of the universe and the mean troll stepsisters. I need him now. I just need him to touch me; I need to feel his energy. Almost as if he read my thoughts, he cups my face in his hand and kisses me—gently yet probing. His tongue caresses mine in a sensual dance that breaks through my defenses and shakes my very soul.

I whimper into his mouth and before either of us really knows what's going on, he is snatching off his T-shirt and I am desperately undoing his jeans. In a matter of moments, he is completely naked before me, snatching the bath blanket off of me and lifting me off the floor. Before I have the chance to wrap my legs around him, he has impaled me with his erection. I gasp at the immediate fullness but try to keep quiet knowing that we are not alone in the house.

"Baby..." Christian breathes as he buries himself in me and holds me in place for a moment, breathing like he has just run a marathon. "You feel so good," he whispers, reading my thoughts. I squeeze my muscles around him and he hisses. Using the strength in my legs, I begin to ride him gently. "Oh, yes, Baby," he says holding my hips and guiding me just a bit. "Just like that..."

I can already feel myself begin to rise. I have needed him so much today. I convinced myself that what those bitches said didn't bother me, but it did... not because I didn't feel pretty enough or worthy enough, but because we are going through so much and it seems like everybody has something to say about it. Now, while he's loving me, I know why I was upset that he wasn't here when I got back. I just needed him to reassure me, that's all. I don't need it all of the time, but for some reason, I needed it today—and he wasn't available. He was busy doing what Christian Grey does, and I have to understand that's who he is. I have to put on my big girl panties and realize that he has to be who he is and do what he does. Then, when I need those moments of reassurance, I will relish these times—when his need for me is just as feral as my need for him; when our bodies meet and take off in directions that we do not expect and our brains have no other choice but to try to catch up.

As my mind swirls around my yearning for this man, I only now realize that I am feverishly stroking him, my head back and my hands digging into his shoulders. My orgasm creeps up on me and now takes over as my body locks around him and my mouth hangs open in silent release. I cling to Christian's body as he thrusts into me several more times then buries his face in my chest and cries out as he is unable to quietly ride out his powerful climax. His entire body trembles violently and his staff is throbbing relentlessly inside me while my muscles are still pulsating. The feeling is delicious.

He is breathing heavily and holding me tight around my waist as I feel him thrusting into me again, his member still throbbing. He is still breathing heavily and it is only when his mouth hungrily devours mine that I realize we are going for round two. Far be it from me to complain. I slowly begin to meet his grind, again absorbing his closeness and the intimacy of our bodies meeting.

"Oh, God, Ana, you are perfection," he breathes as he rocks his hips against mine, pushing himself deeper and deeper into my sex. I kiss his shoulders and his neck, taking his earlobe between my teeth tasting his skin and feeling his heat, absorbing his energy into me.

My man... _mine_...

* * *

We are sitting in the great room and Mia is recounting the events of the day and the encounter that we had with the two Billy Goats Gruff at Miana's today. Allen and Maxie have gone back to Seattle to spend the evening with their other halves.

"You have no idea who these women were?" Christian asks Mia and me. I shake my head.

"No clue," Mia says. "Seattle's a big city, Cwis."

"Yes, I know," he says. "I just hate that people think they can say anything that they want to or about my girlfriend, much less in an establishment that I own." He runs his hand through his hair and I can tell that he's frustrated. I look over at my father who seems more than a bit distracted, watching two of the four doors that lead into the great room.

"Daddy?" I ask inconspicuously. "What's the matter?"

"I'm just wondering where Mandy got off to," he says, bemused. I hadn't noticed before, but she's not in the room with us.

"I'll find her," I say. I make to stand and Christian looks at me questioning. "Going to locate Mandy," I said, planting a chaste kiss on his lips.

"Okay," he says releasing my hand and continuing his conversation with Mia.

I wander around the house a bit and I can't seem to find her. I'm sure that she wouldn't go exploring through someone's house without their permission. As I am about to go back to the great room to see if she has returned, I see her standing just outside the French doors that lead to the path to the Treehouse. I grab a nearby afghan and step out into the night air, quietly closing the French doors behind me. I walk up behind her and I can see that she's crying.

"Mandy?" I say walking over to her. Her eyes get large and she quickly wipes her tears.

"Oh! Ana... hi," she says, doing a terrible job of disguising her voice. "I, um, I just wanted some air."

"Dad is... looking for you." I examine her face carefully, then pull her further away from the French doors. "Mandy what is it?" She rolls her head dramatically and does a crying laughter thing, almost maniacal.

"I can't tell you," she says, dropping her head and covering her face. Red flags! Red flags!

"Um... okay... does this have to do with my father?" I say, trying to hold my temper. She sighs.

"Yes... it does," she replies, her voice above a whisper. The fuck you _can't _tell me!

"Is my father going to get hurt?" I ask, seeing flashbacks of a similar conversation with one Katherine Kavanaugh a few months ago.

"I don't know," she whimpers. "He could..." Bitch, I told you...

"Amanda, when we first met, I told you that if you hurt. My. Daddy..." My voice is becoming more menacing with every word.

"Stop!" She puts her hand up to silence me. "The very last thing in the world that I would ever want to do it hurt Ray!" she squeaks.

"Then what is this about?" I snap. I've had enough, and I will make her regret it until her dying day if she hurts my father. She starts to cry again.

"I'm pregnant," she weeps.

All of the air is snatched out of my body at one time and I feel like my legs have disappeared. She's pregnant. She's pregnant. My dad's girlfriend is pregnant. Is it...?

"Amanda, I have to ask. Is it Ray's baby?"

"Yes, it's Ray's baby!" she responds offended as she shoots a death glare at me. Whoa! I know that look... It's Ray's baby! She's got that "how fucking dare you" look in her eye that can't be faked, but I won't apologize for my question.

"Look," I say a little more sternly than I should. "I find you here crying and when I ask you what's wrong, you can't tell me. However, you do tell me tell me that my Daddy could be hurt. I had to ask!" I snap. She looks at me angry at first, and then chastised.

"I'm sorry... I just... I'll take any test you want." Oh, now I feel like shit.

"You don't have to take a test for me, Mandy. I don't know about my father, though. Were you guys using any contraception?"

"Condoms mostly. I was going to check out contraception when I... found out," she says.

"How far?" I ask.

"Nine weeks," she responds softly. Still first trimester.

"How did you not know?" I ask. "You had to miss a period."

"My periods have never been regular," she responded. "When I didn't see it, I chalked it up to my crazy body."

"You said condoms _mostly, _but then you said that you were going to check out contraception when you found out that you were pregnant." She knew what I was asking.

"We had one time where in the heat of the moment, we... forgot... the condom, and... well, here I am." She is so embarrassed. I understand—I'm talking to her about her and my dad's sex life.

"I take it from your reaction that Dad doesn't know," I ask. She shakes her head. "Mandy, you have to tell him."

"How? We've never talked about children," she laments.

"Don't you want to have any?" I ask.

"I... I don't... I don't know," she stuttered. Oh, hell. "I mean, I never thought about it. I just... I never met the right guy... I'm 35!" she squealed. "Doesn't this crazy, unplanned shit happen to women in their twenties?" I try not to laugh at her but I smile anyway.

"Unfortunately, it happens to women in their thirties, too!" I say taking her hand and leading her to a seat. "You're a young, beautiful woman, Amanda. Why wouldn't you expect this?"

"I'm not young," she protests. I nearly flinch.

"You most certainly are!" I correct her. "Since when is 35 _old? _You still have healthy, fertile ovaries and apparently my Dad is shooting with loaded bullets..." She immediately flushes.

"I'll say!" she says a little wistfully, her voice dripping with lust.

"Okay! TMI!" I say waving my hands.

"You're right! Too much!" She says, trying to compose herself. I can't help but laugh to myself. Ray is 48 years old, soon to be 49, and he has this young, beautiful, blonde bombshell pregnant and sexually flustered at the mention of his skills. Go, Dad!

"What do you want to do, Mandy? That's the first thing you have to ask yourself." She looks at her hands, her face wracked with confusion. "Do you want to have a baby?"

"I don't kn... I guess so. I've always thought that at some point, I would want to be a mom. I just... never really prepared myself." Well, now is the time!

"Do you want _Ray's _baby?" I know it sounds heartless, but I have to ask. She looks up at me with big, sincere eyes.

"I want any part of Ray I can get," she says softly. Whoa! Okay.

"Can you tell me what you're most afraid of?"

"Of losing him!" she weeps without a pause. "I'm afraid that he'll think I did this on purpose, that he won't want me... I don't know." She looks at me again. "He's the best thing that ever happened to me. I love him so much... so much..." She buries her face in her hands again and sobs mournfully. I put my arms around her as she continues to cry. "Ana I can't lose him. I can't. What am I going to do?"

"You have to tell him. You guys have to make this decision together."

"What about you, Ana?" she asks with tears in her eyes.

"What _about _me? You can't make this decision because of me," I say.

"But you do need to be considered in it. You are Ray's only child... and I know the story, but you are his _only_ child. This means that you will have a baby sibling. You're 27! When you have a child, your child won't be much younger than your baby brother or sister!" Wow! That hit home. When I have a child...

When I have a child...  
Good grief...

"Mandy, if you and my father have a child, I will _adore _having a baby sibling. I will spoil it rotten and teach it all the ways to drive you and my dad crazy, okay?" She breaks out in laughter through her tears. I take her hand. "And if you and Ray decide," I begin softly, "that this is not the right decision, I will stand by your right to make that choice, too... okay?" She shudders a bit as she takes in a breath.

"I want to keep my baby," she says, her voice tortured.

"You what?" The disbelieving voice that came from behind us belongs to my father. I turn around to see him standing there looking down at Mandy who is grasping my hand to the point of pain. She rises to her feet and I have to rise with her or I am afraid that she's going to take my hand off. "What did you say?" he says incredulously.

"I... I..." She is terrified. I hate to leave her, but this is between her and my father and I feel like an intruder.

"I should go..." I say, trying to pry my hands from Mandy. She turns to me, her eyes pleading.

"No! Please!" She barely breathes the words. Why is she so afraid?

"Okay. Okay." I say reassuring.

"Mandy?" Ray is still staring at her.

"Ray, I went... to the doctor's this week, and..." She's holding her head down and she can barely speak. Her voice and her hand are shaking as her death grip on mine tightens. "We... we're... having a baby, Ray."

The silence that followed seemed to last forever even though I knew it was only a few moments.

"Wha...?" My father finally breathed. Uh oh, the moment of truth. Mandy never raised her head. "I'm nearly 50 years old," he said softly. Mandy is shaking even more than before. "You're pregnant with my baby?" Without lifting her head, Mandy shakily nods. "The old man still got it!" Dad says.

Huh?

He scoops Mandy up in his arms and she just falls apart. She immediately drops my hand and clings to Ray, weeping heavily into his shoulder. He holds her close to him repeating her name, her legs dangling in the air. I step away a little as he takes the seat that she was previously occupying, sitting her on his lap.

"Are you okay, Baby?" He asks, a reverence filling his voice that I have never heard before. Mandy nods, looking lovingly at him through her tears and running her fingers through his gray beard and sideburns. "I guess I'm going to have to dye this so that I don't look like the kid's grandfather," he laughs.

"No," Mandy whimpers, thrusting her hands into Ray's thick salt-and-pepper hair. "No, don't, please. I love you, Ray. I love you so much..." She presses her lips to his, holding his face in her hands. "Please don't change... don't change a thing." I am happy to witness the love that she feels for my father.

"How far along are you?" Ray asks.

"Nine weeks," she says, still unable to find her voice. He pulls her protectively close to him again and kisses her cheek.

"Annie... I'm going to be a father... again!" I smile sweetly at him.

"Congratulations, Daddy," I say softly. I look over at Mandy. "... And Mom." Mandy gasps and points at me.

"We had a deal!" She squeals.

"I know! I'm sorry! I just couldn't help it!" I confess through giggles.

"Is this where the party is and no one invited me?" I hear Christian's playful voice coming through the door. He looks at weeping Mandy, then at me. "Is everything okay?" He says concerned.

"I'll say," Daddy says, setting Mandy onto the ground then standing. "We're having a baby!" he announces proudly, grinning from ear to ear. Christian's mouth falls open, then his smile matches my father's.

"No shit?" He says with a huge grin. "I mean, you don't say? Well congratulations, Ray!" Christian extends his hand and he and my father shake hands feverishly. Dad and Christian briefly get caught up in conversation and I notice that Mandy still looks a little ashen. I pull her to the side and ask, "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

She looks at me with fear in her eyes. "I only want him to be happy," she says to me. "I only want to make him happy."

"You do make him happy, Mandy. Can't you see that?" I ask and she sighs.

"I hope so," she says and I can feel her shaking. "I really love him."

"You're scared, aren't you?" I ask.

"Terrified!" she breathes.

"You don't have to be..." It's my father's voice that I hear. "We're going to be great parents to this kid and everything is going to be fine. Do you trust me?"

"With my life," Mandy says, gently touching Ray's face, and I can see the genuine love and affection that she feels for my father. It makes me happy to know that he has this in his life.

"Then trust me that I am _very _happy... and very honored... to have this baby with you," he tells her.

"Oh, Ray!" Mandy throws herself into my father's arms and they embrace. I'm feeling a little melancholy about this display. My daddy has a new #1 girl, and he'll soon have a new child, too. Get it together, Steele! If you honestly start this shit now, you need to be slapped.

"Are _you _okay?" Christian asks taking my hand. I nod quickly and smile, fighting back tears from I don't know where.

We all make our way back inside smiling from ear to ear—an occurrence that doesn't get past one Valerie Marshall.

"Well," she asks conspicuously, "what fresh new secret has you all smiling like Cheshire Cats?" Well, this is not my secret to tell or my news to share. I look over at Dad who is still smiling a smile bright enough to light up the Sound. "Dad?" I say, waiting for his approval or response. When he and Mandy continue to smile at each other, I say, "I think my Dad has an announcement."

After a short pause and a nod from Mandy, Ray says, "It looks like my girlfriend is pregnant so I'm going to be a father again." The room erupts in joyous yelling and congratulations, hugs, and handshakes.

"Well," Mia says, "I guess mine and Ethan's wedding isn't the only one that we're going to be planning, huh?" The room goes quiet and Ray and Mandy have unreadable expressions on their faces.

"Mia!" Grace exclaims! "One day, I'm going to find you a muzzle that fits!" she declares.

"I'm sorry," she says, chastised. "I didn't mean to put them on the spot... I just assumed... I'm sorry." She drops her head and you can tell that she really regrets saying what she said. Grace is correct, though. Mia is adorable and lovable and sometimes, she speaks before she thinks. Ethan puts his arms around his scolded fiancee who doesn't raise her head. It is now clear to see that Grace feels remorseful for what she said as well.

"Mia, Darling," Grace says, trying to soothe the sting of her hasty words, "it just seems like they haven't had a chance to really talk about this yet, and you did put them on the spot." She rubs her daughter's arm apologetically and Mia nods. Ray and Mandy look at each other and Ray says "Well, we never talked about marriage." He looks at Mandy and ask "What do you think?"

Mandy doesn't pause a beat when she says "I'll marry you right here and now." Ray's eyes twinkle at the thought before he declares, "Well, I guess that means we're celebrating two engagements because I'm going to make this woman my wife."

There is another uproar of cheering and congratulations—Mia's and Grace's outbursts all but instantly forgotten. The next thing we know, party food is being served, music is being played and drinks are flowing freely as we convene an impromptu celebration of a Grey engagement _and _a Steele engagement. I have to admit, all of this _engaging_ is making me a little jealous—the feeling that Christian had in Anguilla, when Gail and Jason were moving on with their lives and we only got to watch. Granted, we had only been dating a month by then—even now, it's only been five and we still have some things to work through, both separately and together. I just... I don't know... maybe I'm ready.

"Where is your mind?" Christian says, coming over to me at the dining table, our families meandering here and there and wandering between this room, the great room, and the kitchen.

"My Daddy's getting married," I say softly, "and having a baby. It's a big thing." He sits down next to me.

"How do you feel about that?" he asks. The patient has become the therapist.

"I don't really know," I say. I want you to ask me to marry you again. I want you to buy me an engagement ring. I want to be planning _our _wedding and not Maxie's or Mia's or Dad's. Damn! Everybody's getting married but me! "I need some air." I stand and inconspicuously walk out to the patio. I don't want Ray to think I don't want him and Mandy to be happy and I am certainly not going to let my silly selfishness ruin their evening. I run to the garden and burst into breathless tears. I just needed to get away from all of the merriment.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I know how he felt now. I told him that he was selfish and now I know how he felt! How do I deal with this? Dr. Anastasia Steele, psychologist extraordinaire, is having unfounded, irrational feelings of confusion and envy. What the hell do I do with these?

He stands behind me and wraps me in my coat while I continue to cry. "Ana. Baby. What is it?"

"Please," I whimper like the blubbering idiot that I am right now. "Please, don't make me talk about it right now. Please..." How could I be so damn selfish? How can I be _un_happy because my father is happy? What kind of new insanity is this? I must be having a nervous fucking breakdown—this is just not logical!

"Okay, but will you tell me about it at some point?"

"I... I don't know! Please, Christian!" I'm almost wailing now. Please, let this go and let me pull myself together, for Christ's sake. I'm already ashamed.

"Okay. Okay. We don't have to talk about it," he placates me. I can hear the concern in his voice but his tone is laced with something else... Confusion? Hurt?

"Annie?" Oh shit!

"Daddy?" I say, instinctively breaking from Christian's grasp and running to my father's waiting arms. "I'm sorry, Daddy," I weep. "I swear, it's not what it looks like."

"What do you mean, Annie? What's wrong?" I cry for a moment in my father's arms. I do my best to remember that he has always been and will always be my daddy. Not time or space or evil or blood or crazy mothers or new wives and families are ever going to change that. He will always be _my_ Daddy, and I want him to be happy. I raise my head to look at him and realize that Christian has left us alone. I have to tell Ray.

"Daddy, I'm not jealous of you and Mandy... at least... not in the way that you would think. I just... wish it was me," I say bursting into tears again. Daddy puts his arms around me and pulls me close to him.

"Oh, Annie," he says, kissing my hair.

"Please don't say anything, Daddy. Christian would marry me tomorrow if he knew that I felt this way. I know that he would, but I need him to be ready for this—to be fully prepared for a lifetime commitment and everything that entails—before we make the decision to do this. Please don't tell him."

"It's not my place to tell him," Dad says, "but I think you should, and soon. That young man will move heaven and earth for you, and there is no reason to put your life on hold. As I see it, you've already done that enough." I know he's talking about my shutdown after breaking up with Edward. He was an emotional wrecking ball on my fragile soul... fucking asshole.

"Thank you, Daddy. I'm so sorry. Please make sure that Mandy knows this has nothing to do with her or you or the baby or your engagement or...well, you know what I'm trying to say."

"No problem, Annie. I'll make sure that she knows."

We walk back to the house and a noticeable hush comes over the room when we enter—not a total silence, just a noticeable hush. I take off my coat and sit on the couch next to Christian. He seems a bit chilly when I sit next to him, but I put my legs underneath me and curl up a bit, just leaning on his arm. Maybe he felt a bit shunned when I ran to Ray instead of him... and I can understand that. So I guess I'll give him the right to pout a little if he must. Ray is saying something to Mandy and she nods, then looks at me and smiles. I return her smile then lean onto Christian's arm some more. He appears not to respond to me, so I try to take what comfort I can in the little contact that I can get right now.

Why have I been so damn needy today?

The conversation has picked up in the room again and luckily (I think) no one is focusing on me... not even Christian. That's okay. I need to be alone with my thoughts anyway without running from the house like a toddler having a temper tantrum. The melancholy is sinking in on me again, but I will not cry. I really am happy for Mandy and Daddy... and Mia and Ethan... and of course, Maxie and Phil. I just wish that my time would come, that's all. I know it will, just... when? When will I know... _we_ know... that we are truly ready?

I have to be patient. I have to be a grown-up and enjoy my life with my boyfriend and be patient. We are growing together and it will happen when it is time. I just can't help the ache that I feel. I have gotten to know him so well in these last few months. We have had several hiccups, but they have been fruitful—leading to conversations and resolutions about our feelings and our fears. Even Flynngate led to a wonderful outcome all in all. Our relationship has been glorious, even with the bumps and curves—actually, most often, _because_ of the bumps and curves.

I have learned to understand and accept Christian's possessiveness and need for control and he has been able to temper that with my never-ending unshakable independence. I have quite the temper, but after everything that has happened to me—hell, even a shrink is human! When our tempers butt heads, it's the worst! Neither of us are willing to take down. It hasn't gone so far as the hot, angry sex we had on the jet on the ride home from Anguilla. Damn! I thought we would actually hurt each other that day! Nonetheless, one or both of us will usually remember our therapy and cooler heads will prevail. Often, the cooler head will just announce that we need a break and walk away. To my surprise, most often, the cooler head is usually Christian.

It's these times that I'm not really fond of—what he's doing right now. I call these times participative contemplation. He doesn't shut down completely and he doesn't treat me like a stranger, but he does pull away just enough for me to feel the separatism. I'm sure that it's something that he learned in therapy with Dr. Baker, something to help him cope with new emotions without flying over a cliff. I am proud of him for exercising the new techniques so well. It's just... today... my heart is having a hard time dealing with being on the outside.

I did waste too much of my life pining over a man that wasn't _worth_ my time and as a result, my life _was_ put on hold. I wonder where I would be now if I hadn't let that life-sucking leech into my life? I may have never met Christian—who knows. I feel cold right now, that inside out cold that doesn't seem to go away quickly. I pull my arms and legs closer to me in an attempt to get some inner warmth. Maybe it's thinking about that fucker Edward that's making me so cold. That asshole could chill the pits of hell! God, I hate him! I know it's such an unhealthy emotion, but I really hate him—more than anything!

… More than boils, fever blisters, and paper cuts!

… More than panty-lines, too-small tube tops, and sandals without a pedicure!

… More than body odor, split ends, and hangnails!

… More than toothaches, pink eye, and strep throat!

… More than...

"Good grief, Steele! If you squeeze yourself any tighter you're going to disappear!" Val's voice sounds far away, but not. I feel Christian's arms around me and he hoists me into his lap like a rag doll right after I could swear I heard him mumble, "she's shrinking."

I wasn't shrinking...

… Was I?

I thought I was just cold.

Then I realize that my hands, arms and legs are hurting from squeezing myself together so tightly. How long was I like that?

"I was just cold," I say in a small, soft, and squeaky voice like a scolded child.

"Well, let's warm you up, shall we?" Christian says with a gentle smile as he pulls me close to him and cuddles me in his arms... and just like that, I'm warm.

Shit... I _was_ shrinking, and I didn't even know it.

"I was just cold," I say again, no one paying attention to me except Val and Christian.

"It's okay, Baby... and now you're not," he says kissing my cheek.

A few moments pass and I sit in Christian's lap, relishing the feeling of being in his arms and trying to shoo away the feelings of anger and slight despair that had taken over me moments before. I still feel like I'm shrinking a bit, but now, I put my arms around Christian's waist and sink into him. My head is on his chest and I can hear his heart beat. I close my eyes and listen—it feels like mine...

Thip-thump... Thip-thump... Thip-thump... Thip-thump...

This is where I belong. I love him so much... and he loves me. We have a long way to go but, but Dear Jesus, we have _come _a long way.

Thip-thump... Thip-thump... Thip-thump...

His arms pull me close to him and I can feel him rubbing my back as I relax into comfort.

"So, Mia, tell us about your new apartment. I know you must be very excited about it," I hear Mandy say.

"We are! It's really beautiful and it took forever to find it! I think the real estate agent was saving it for last to get the best price on it..."

Thip-thump... Thip-thump... Thip-thump...

"I hope you didn't let her take advantage of you, Meelo. I know how impetuous you can be." His deep voice rumbles from his chest and massages my ears.

Mmmmm...

"Actually, you would have been proud, Christian," I hear Ethan say. "It's actually a guy, and she gave him a piece of her mind for wasting our time all day when he knew this place was available all along. She told him that she knew exactly what he was trying to do and would _not _let him take advantage of us. I was very impressed! My kitten became a wildcat." Oh, how cute!

Thip-thump... Thip-thump... Thip-thump...

"Do we even want to know why you call her 'Kitten?'" I hear Val say, her voice filled with mirth and slightly fading away again.

"... Because she's cute and cuddly. Why else?" Oh, coy little Ethan.

Thip-thump... Thip-thump... Thip-thump...  
Thip-thump... Thip-thump... Thip-thump...  
Thip-thump... Thip-thump... Thip-thump... Thip-thump... Thip...


	5. Stepping Out Tonight

_**First of all, please allow me to apologize. I am so sorry! The last chapter was not meant to be a cliffhanger. I thought that Ana closing her eyes and concentrating on Christian's heartbeat along with the fading of the voices would be an indication that she was actually falling asleep on his chest. I am really very sorry. I really didn't mean to leave you all hanging like that. I made sure that this chapter—though packed with goodies—doesn't end in a cliffhanger since I did that to you guys. I also apologize for it being so late but real life required my attention today.**_

_**I haven't had the chance to read my reviews but I did skim them a bit and I will respond to you all as soon as I get a chance. I do want to address the reviews and PM's that reference the angst in the story and the change in the characters.**_

_**Do you remember Paging Dr. Steele?**_  
_**Do you remember all the times that people told me how to write my characters and my story?**_  
_**Do you remember how many times I bowed to their request?**_

_**If you are reading this, the answer to those questions should be 1) yes, 2) several, and 3) none. Please refer to my disclaimer in chapter 1 that prominently says that I am "exercising my right to exploit, abuse, and mangle the characters to MY discretion in MY fanfic in MY interpretation as a fan."**_

**_All sunshine and rainbows is BORING! I'm here to tell you that my couple has issues to get through before they move on. They still have nemeses to fight and everything—trials to attend, obstacles to overcome, you know... REAL LIFE. Everything wasn't all sunshine and roses coming out of Paging Dr. Steele, and unfortunately, it won't be all sunshine and roses now. Sorry. We ended on a nice note, but it still wasn't all sunshine and roses. Ana still wanted to kill Elena, Edward's trial was still looming, and Christian was still battling with his emotions—and this was only a few of the issues that faced our couple._**

**_Conflict helps to build the story. And by the way, except for Ana's "I wish it was me" moment, all of the fighting and disagreements have been flashbacks—telling how our couple has gotten to where they are now. And warning! There are some more fighting flashbacks coming. Healing hurts too, and they have a lot of healing to go through before they can be together. I'm hoping that the growing pains will make it worth it, but if it doesn't... again... sorry._**

**_To the guests and reviewers that reference the desire for Ana and Christian to move on and have babies and things... patience, my darlings... patience. Stick with me. ;-)_**

**_Thank you's will come with the next chapter but know that I adore and appreciate you all!_**

**_All previous disclaimers apply here..._**

* * *

**Chapter 5—Stepping Out Tonight**

_**GREY**_

I awake to Butterfly sleeping peacefully next to me in my childhood bedroom. She fell asleep on my lap last night during the conversation with our families in the great room. It was very late by the time the evening ended—nearly 3am in fact. I didn't know how long she was asleep in my lap, but I knew that she was troubled about something. I was a little put off that she wouldn't tell me what was wrong, but that she ran to Ray when he came out to comfort her. I have to understand that _is_ her father and their relationship is very different. It's just a little painful to realize that there's something that she could say to Ray that—after all of this time—she couldn't say to me.

Luckily I have learned to deal with these sort of "mini-rejections" a little better as I am so accustomed to getting what I want when I want. However, I understand that even though my ego tends to believe otherwise, everyone and everything does not bend to Christian Grey's will.

I don't think she realized last night that she was shrinking and withdrawing until Valerie brought it to her attention. I have no idea why she was withdrawing last night. She seemed so happy about Ray and Mandy's engagement as well as Mandy's pregnancy. Then, all of a sudden, she wasn't so happy anymore. In fact, she was quite devastated it seemed. What changed? What was the problem? She begged me not to ask her, but I would really like to know.

I love her very much and I only want to make her happy, so I guess I'll just be patient and wait until she's ready to tell me. I know that she had problems earlier yesterday with the horrible women at Miana's. She's taking everything in stride like a real lady. She is the picture of class, elegance, grace, and sophistication no matter who approaches her, when they descend upon her, or why they have interrupted her day. I know how difficult it is being in the spotlight and I'm a veteran. My beautiful Butterfly is a novice—only recently being exposed to the attention. I know that it can't be easy... There are many times when I have just wanted them to leave me alone, but she's doing very well and I am very proud of her.

I stroke her hair and brush it out of her face. Even asleep, she looks like she's shrinking a bit, but she is curled into my chest so I can't complain. We are all supposed to meet downstairs for brunch around 11 before we start making preparations to go to the Greater Seattle Adopt-A-Family Affair. I don't want to wake her just yet. Not only do I want her to rest some more because we were awake so late last night—or this morning, I should say—but I also love to watch her sleep. Hell, I love to watch her do anything. I remember the first moment that I saw her and my life changed forever.

She had walked into room 239 in that God-forsaken community center. Even though she was wearing this sexy black dress and those unbelievably high stilettos, the most striking thing about her were those big, blue eyes! I swear, the moment I saw those eyes, I was a goner... even though I didn't want to admit it. I don't know how she felt about me the _moment_ she laid eyes on me—we've never talked about it—but she took _my_ breath away. I know she couldn't stand me later on, but that's because even though I was immensely and hopelessly attracted to her, I treated her like a sub from the first word that I heard from her.

In my own defense, the first word I heard from her was "Sir."

We all now know that the lovely Dr. Anastasia Steele was certainly not having that. We've come a long way since that day nearly six months ago. I bet absolutely no one would have thought we would be here now... least of all, me.

I gently stroke the curve of her hip and inhale her Ana smell. I trace the outline of the letters of her brand, which now looks quite different than the first time I saw it.

_After one of her sessions with Maxine about a month ago—one that she admits was quite intense—she disappeared for an entire weekend. She assured me that she was not running and that Allen would be with her, but there was something that she needed to do for herself and she would explain everything to me on Sunday evening when she returned. I was quite hesitant. I—we—were at a crucial point in my therapy and I felt like it was not a good time for either of us to be withholding secrets from one another. However, I could see in her eyes that it was something that she really needed to do, so I begrudgingly agreed. _

_Sunday evening, she came home barely able to walk. I was furious! _

"_What happened to you!?" I barked. She shushed me and told me to follow her to our bedroom. I reached for her and she flinched. Now I'm really pissed. _

"_Anastasia..." I said in my warning tone. _

"_Just follow me, Christian!" she ordered. Oh, there will be some restitution for this, I had thought to myself. I followed her into the bedroom. I closed the door, expecting. She took a deep breath and turned to face me. "I've done something. I realize that I probably should have consulted you first, but I had to do it."_

_I frown. "What have you done?" I asked. She sighed and took off her dress. She was completely naked underneath. That didn't make me happy—where the fuck were her underwear and bra? She turned around and her whole lower back was covered with a large bandage. I couldn't even take a breath. She pulled her long brown locks over her shoulder. _

"_Take it off," she says, her voice small. I slowly began to remove the bandage and I am floored by what I find underneath._

_Ana got a tattoo. _

_A very _large _tattoo! She couldn't cover the brand because they are burns and the ink wouldn't cover the scars... so she incorporated them into the tattoo. The letters are quite grotesque, so the closest thing that she could find to match were Gothic letters. The branded letters are outlined emphasizing their shape and there are two more letters distorted to imitate the branded letters as closely as possible: _

_W-H-O-L-E._

_Around the letters and covering at least one-third of her lower back is what looks like the scene of a garden... Beautiful flowers and colors and butterflies—lots and lots of butterflies—in all shapes, sizes and colors. The top line of the "E" actually morphs into a butterfly flying off to the right of her body. You would think it would be gaudy or busy—so much work and so large—but it's not. It's delicate and beautiful and I gasped. Butterfly's shoulders fell. _

"_You don't like it..." she breathed. "I had to do it, Christian. I had to do it for me." She was almost crying. _

"_No, Butterfly... It's breathtaking! It's the most beautiful... Butterfly..." I was at a loss. I couldn't find the words to say what I felt at that moment. "I need to hold you. I need to touch you but I don't want to hurt you. Tell me how to hold you..."_

"_Like this!" She spun around and rushed to me, taking my face in her hands and kissing me feverishly. I reciprocated, cupping her small face in my large hands and devouring her lips and tongue. I've heard that tattoos are painful, but this one had to be agony. Couple that with the fact that she has allowed no one to touch her back except for me. No wonder Allen had to go with her. _

"_Make love to me, Butterfly," I said between hungry kisses. "I need you..."_

_We had spent that Sunday night in unending passion. Butterfly took complete control and with the exception of that one night in Anguilla, those were some of the most powerful orgasms I had ever had._

I look at the tattoo now and remember the promise that I made to her that day while she lay in my arms: _"I can't wait until it's healed. I'm going to kiss it every chance I get..."_

I outline the letters of the brand, still amazed that she was able to make something so horrible into something so beautiful. It makes me think how she was also such a huge part of my transformation—a rich, attractive, dominating, curmudgeonly recluse now a man hopelessly in love and a bit of a social butterfly.

Butterfly... Interesting choice of word.

True to my word, I move to her back and kiss her brand and that beautiful tattoo. She squirms almost immediately.

"Christian..." she breathes, her voice thick with a mixture of sleep and arousal. I didn't mean to wake her, but I should have known that I would have. I don't know what was in that ink, but the moment I touch her brand—_whenever_ I touch her brand—she is on fire! She hasn't been touched there since the beating and I would only gently caress it every so often. Now, it's like she hungry for the contact that she missed and I am only too happy to oblige. I call it "skipping through her garden."

I continue to caress her letters as I kiss her navel, the skin over her sternum, the soft mound of her breasts. Her hands tangle in my hair and I wrap my arms around her, rolling her on top of me. Her hair falls over both our faces like a veil.

"Make love to me, Butterfly," I breathe, holding her so close to me that we share the same air. "I need you..." She pauses for only a moment, then shifts her hips expertly taking my erection inside of her without separating us.

"Ah!" I gasp, a little surprised by her alacrity and ability—though at this point, I have no idea why I was surprised. She moves with such skill and knows my body like no one else. She whimpers as she covers me and I hold her close to me, pressing her against me and still fondling her back as she grinds her hips into me.

"Ah... yes!" she breathes, closing her eyes and steadying herself against my chest. This is my goddess, my Butterfly. She is exquisite, and the things that she does to me are indescribable. Her nails sink gently into the skin of my chest and she pushes her body away from mine, forcing more weight and pressure onto her hips... and my dick.

"Oh, fuck! Baby!" I grunt as she rolls around on my erection, her body trembling as she tries to control her stroke.

"Let go, Baby," I plead, trying to control my tone as she mercilessly massages me with her hot, wet pussy. Hold on, Grey—easier said than done while I'm watching her perfect body flow on top of mine in a beautiful lyrical dance.

"No," she breathes, never opening her eyes. I'm normally not so quick to come, but she is driving me fucking insane! Her hands are now placed solidly on top of my abs, her fingers wrapping around my sides and she is concentrating on her task. Her head drops and her hair tickles her my stomach as she intensifies her stroke, moving nothing but her hips—back and forth, up and down, and around—meticulous, deep, hard, grinding, burning movement.

"Fuck, Ana!" I can't take much more of this. She is relentless. I can smell her sweat and her arms are trembling violently, but her hips remain in control.

"Wait!" she demands, maintaining the same controlled, fluid motions though her voice and the rest of her body—and mine—suggests uncontrolled passion and abandon. "Not yet!" she reinforces. I'm about to lose this battle. Her insides are clenching around me and I can't even feel the stroke anymore. All I feel is clench and burn. My mouth is open and I am panting. I grab her hips to try to stop the inevitable, but it's of no use.

"Anastasia!" I grunt. I try to warn her, but it's too late. Her head swings back and her hair flies in a perfect windmill up the front, over her head, and down her back as she squeals out her release, mercifully dropping down onto my erection and grinding hard as her pulsing pussy drains every bit of my orgasm from my balls. I feel like my head is going to explode and I am not getting enough air. It was fast—and hard! Intense as fuck! And then...

"Go, Steele!"

What the fuck!?

We both look to the door to see a smirking Valerie along with a dumbstruck and spellbound Elliot and Jason standing inside the doorway to my childhood bedroom. Butterfly and I are stunned at first, both looking at the door and wondering what the hell is going on. Elliot and Jason are mindlessly gawking at my girlfriend's beautiful ass and round shapely breasts and it's at _this _particular moment that Butterfly realizes that she's naked. She screams and I shout a few expletives as she scrambles off of me, taking the duvet with her. Thanks, Butterfly! I just came with about 600 horsepower and my dick is still throbbing, standing impressively at attention if I do say so myself, and she runs off with the duvet!

"Good God, Bro!" Elliot exclaims. I don't think we've ever seen each other naked as adults, much less with an erection. I don't know how _he's_ hanging these days, but I know that I'm hanging _long_... and right after orgasm, I'm hanging _really _long—and quite fat! Valerie's eyes go conspicuously to my dick. Let's face it... it's not like you could miss it. I mean seriously, there's a naked man lying in front of you. Where is the first place your eyes are going to go?

"Oh, fuck..." is all she could say. Her voice is a little more wistful than I am comfortable with, and this doesn't get past Butterfly, who is now glaring at her friend. Jason is now finally snapped out of his stunned silence and gets a look what all the fuss is about.

"Whoa! TMI! Way TMI!" he's yelling. Ana turns to me.

"Christian!" she scolds. What the fuck?

"Why are you yelling at me? You took the duvet!" I defend. She crawls over to me and covers us both with the duvet. I turn my ire to the trio at the door. "Why the fuck didn't you knock? Don't you know to knock when you see a closed door?"

"Dude, the door wasn't locked! I didn't think you were in here!" Elliot defends. "Everyone else is up and dressed. You're the last ones still in bed. We didn't know you were still in here!" Note to self—never _ever_ forget to lock the fucking door!

"You should still fucking knock when you see a fucking closed door!" I spit.

"... And you should learn how to lock a door when you are fucking... especially in your _parents_' house... with your girlfriend's father not far away. Shit, Christian. What if it had been _Mom_ or worse yet, _Ray?_"

"Ooohhh," Butterfly groans almost as if she were in agony. Now I'm getting angry.

"Why are you here?" I seethe. Valerie and Elliot both look at Jason who replies, "I brought your attire for the fundraiser and Dr. Grey told me to bring it to your room. Apparently nobody knew that you two were still in bed. Like Elliot said, it's a good thing that Elliot and Valerie came up instead of Grace." Oh good God, yes. That would have been an utter disaster!

"Put the clothes in the closet please and then everyone get out," I demand quietly.

"What's your hurry, Bro?" Elliot taunts. "We're just getting started and it looks like you just finished.

"Elliot, I swear to God, if you don't leave right now, I'm going to get up and beat your ass, naked, in front of your girlfriend, and I already saw her looking at my package." Both Ana and Elliot glare at Valerie.

"What?" she defends. "It was hanging out there looking at me! … And you should talk," she says accusingly to Elliot, "like you weren't looking at Ana's tits and ass!" Both Ana and I turn our glare to Elliot. Yeah, _Bro, _how about that? Ana has finally had enough of the floor show and points to the door.

"Just get the fuck out! Get the fuck out now!" she orders, clearly pissed off. Valerie's eyes get large. Apparently, the Tiger has surprised her.

"Okay, okay! Sorry!" she relents, forcibly turning Elliot around and pushing him out of the room. Jason now emerges from the closet and simply says, "Getting the fuck out now, Your Highness," before turning the lock on the doorknob and closing the door behind him. Butterfly and I stare at the door for a moment, then at each other, and out of nowhere, we simultaneously break into fits of uncontrollable laughter.

* * *

The ladies finally descend the stairs so that we can proceed to the Adopt-A-Family Affair. Although they are all beautiful in various jewel-toned dresses, my eyes are locked on my exquisite girlfriend wearing a Terani Couture emerald green one shoulder ruched gown with a cut-out back along with gold jewelry and a nude clutch with a large jeweled peacock. She looks as if she's floating and as she holds her dress and glides down the stairs, I can see her Christian Louboutin latticework platform glittered stiletto sandals. I take her hand when she reaches the bottom stair, as does each gentleman in the room when his date approaches.

"You look stunning," I breathe in her ear as I place a chaste kiss on her cheek. She smiles shyly as I tuck her hand into my arm and lead her to the door. I drape her in her Calvin Klein Gothic 90s long black velvet formal trench coat and the 10 of us head for the three limousines I have procured for the evening. About half an hour later, we arrive at the Marion Oliver McCaw Hall where the event will be held. Butterfly and I rode in a separate limo than the rest of the family to avoid them having to face the media fodder that follows us everywhere we go. I could have just ridden in one of the Audis but hey... why not a limo?

As expected, the media go bananas when we step out of the car. We are both wearing overcoats as it is the end of November and quite cold in Washington, but they ask Butterfly what she is wearing nonetheless. She rattles off her designers then waves with a bright smile and we go inside.

Although this is not one of my family's events, I'm actually excited about being able to adopt a family this year. Every other year, I just went in with my folks and helped out with the family they adopted. This year, Butterfly and I will be adopting a family ourselves. When she suggested it, it didn't take much convincing for me to agree. Just another thing that we could do together, I felt, which is always a plus. I know that Marlow and his mother made the list this year and I have no doubt that Butterfly is hoping that we get to sponsor them. However, I had to inform her that the likelihood of that happening is very slim since the sponsors and families are all chosen quite randomly by a drawing.

The "Family Affair" is in the Grand Lobby, one of the most opulent spaces in the building. Beautiful red carpeting deck the floors while multi-storied high ceilings are supported by large round steel beams. Impressive walls of windows boast the Seattle cityscape and night-time sky. While we are mingling among other sponsors and fending off nosy wives desperate to befriend Butterfly simply because she is my girlfriend, I notice a commotion just outside the entry that causes me to look up and investigate. I don't quite know how to react to what I am seeing.

Draped in a floor length black velvet cloak with a menacing hood and looking like Satan himself is Elena Lincoln. She is obviously trying to get into the venue and the doorman apparently doesn't see her on the guest list. I'm assuming that her name was removed to avoid the stigma that is following her upcoming trial. I watch carefully and once I see that she is admitted to the venue, I immediately excuse Butterfly and myself and take her to a quieter area of the room, not once taking my eyes off of the ominous Elena Lincoln floating around the lobby dressed conspicuously like Death.

"Elena is here," I warn Butterfly. Her eyes wander around the room and land on the Grim Reaper before she comments.

"This is a public affair and I will not have a scene. She knows that we are here and that's why she came. She has very little money left, I know, so she can't be sponsoring a family and I am sure that no one here would sponsor _her! _As long as she stays away from me and leaves me alone, we will not have a problem. However, if she causes me one bit of grief, I will exercise the restraining order, call the police, and have her removed." Butterfly is smiling the entire time she is talking so as not to draw attention to us. I lean down and kiss her gently on her lips.

"Agreed," I concur before offering her my arm and leading her back to the party.

* * *

_**STEELE**_

Wouldn't you know that blonde bitch would show up. Why in the hell did they let her in here? Well, I know one damn thing for sure. I'll be mindful of where she is all night, but I won't give her the satisfaction or respect of even looking in her eyes.

"That's a plastered smile. I'd know it anywhere," a familiar voice says from behind me. I turn around to see my best friend and his boyfriend standing there in gorgeous matching Bogetta Veneta tuxedos.

"Oh my God, I'm so glad to see you," I say in relief as I give him a hug. "You look stunning."

"Thank you, Jewel. Is the affair that bad? It just started..." he quizzes.

"Lincoln is here," Christian informs him. Al quickly scans the room until he locates She-Thing then looks down at me.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"I'll be fine as long as she honors the restraining order and stays the fuck away from me," I answer with that same plastered smile.

"Don't worry. I have a feeling that she wants absolutely none of you tonight," James comments. I lean in and kiss him on his cheek.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. I was distracted by the Evil," I say to him apologetically.

"You should have seen her when she was outside. She came in a cloak... an actual _cloak_. She looked like Death. Anybody in the room over the age of 60 probably had a heart attack at the sight of her!" We all break out in laughter at She-Thing's expense.

"Well, let's hobnob with the snobs. I've already had enough of her monopolizing my night."

"I so agree!" I say as we return to mingling with the other sponsors.

After the mingling and the insincere woman all appearing to vie for my attention, I gravitate back towards my boyfriend and my father. Daddy seems a little out of place as he isn't accustomed to these kinds of events. However, I was surprised when he told me that he had an Issey Miyake tuxedo that he purchased the moment that he discovered I was dating Christian... well, maybe not the _moment_ he discovered, since I learned this happened while I was in the unwanted kidnapped company of one psychotic Edward David and his now deceased sidekick, Robert Harris. Nonetheless, Ray seemed to know that there would be a need for a good tux in the near future. Are you sending me hints, Daddy?

"Annie, who is that woman?" Ray asks, pointing in the direction that I know she standing in. I turn my head in time to see She-Thing looking over at us, her face impassive.

"_She_ is Elena Lincoln, Dad. Without saying too much, she a long-ago ex of Christian's who has recently been arrested for pedophilia." All of the color leaves my father's face. "Christian and I both have restraining orders against her because her behavior has turned into stalking. She shouldn't even be here since she's supposed to remain 1000 feet away from both of us."

"Hmmm, well that explains it," he comments.

"Explains what?" I ask.

"She doesn't seem to be really comfortable in this crowd. I was coming back from the men's room and she approached me while I was looking for Mandy. She was hanging onto me like laundry, talking about nothing in particular and laughing like we were together." I look back over to where she was standing and she has disappeared into the crowd now. "I just kind of looked at her strangely and excused myself telling her that I had to go and find my date." Oh, fuck!

"Dad, were there any photographers around? Did anybody get a picture of you?" Ray shrugged.

"I don't know, Annie. There have been photographers all over the place. I don't know if they got a picture of me or not." Shit, this situation just became an international incident.

"Dad, I need you to find Mandy and meet Christian and me on the mezzanine, okay?"

"Is everything alright?" he asked concerned.

"I don't know, but I do need you to do this for me, okay?"

"Okay, Annie. I'll see you in a minute." He wanders off in search of Amanda and I tap Christian on the shoulder. He is talking to two other couples who are no doubt sponsors as well.

"My apologies," I say to the couples flashing my brightest smile. "May I steal him for just a moment?" Christian looks at me questioning but smiling as well.

"Of course, Dear," one of the ladies says. "Hopefully, I'll get to talk to you later?"

"Sure. Please excuse us." I take Christian's hand and lead him away. Still smiling, I say, "I think we may have a slight development."

"What's going on?" he says, leaning into me like we are sharing some special little secret. We are aware that cameras are everywhere and we must be careful.

"Elena approached my father. From what he says, there could be a picture in the paper tomorrow of them hanging out like old friends, or worse yet, lovers." Christian is unable to maintain his facade anymore. He scans the room, no doubt looking for Cruella Deville. When he finds her, he takes my hand and start walking toward her.

"Where is Ray now?" he asks.

"Probably waiting for us in the mezzanine with Mandy. I don't want to talk to that woman, Christian."

"You won't have to say a word, Baby," he assures me as we march right up to She-Thing. She's been a wallflower for most of the night since no one will spend any time with her, leaving her presence almost immediately when she approaches. Christian is glaring at her and she appears to shrink. She is wearing an Alyce from Paris Black Label black velvet super long gown with a sweetheart neckline and sheer silver sleeves and back, covered with black sequined designs. As much as I hate to say it, the dress looks gorgeous on her, but she certainly spoils the scenery.

"It's a public place. I haven't done anything wrong. I haven't bothered you or even approached you," she defends, her gaze only on Christian and never meeting my eyes once.

"No, but you did approach Ana's father," Christian replies. Total shock registered on Elena's face.

"Yes, the handsome man with the salt-and-pepper hair that you latched onto because he's probably the only man here who doesn't know who you really are—that would be my dad!" I spit, breaking my own rule not to speak to this rodent. How dare she touch my father, like he would want anything to do with a bleached, painted, twisted, nipped, tucked monster like her!

"How do you know he didn't approach me?" she defended, her voice lacking the conviction I know she was hoping for.

"Because not only did he come to me asking me who the hell you were, but also you clearly haven't met his beautiful, young, pregnant fiancee!" I barked. I said I didn't want to make a scene, but I will fuck her up if she talks about my daddy! She blanches.

"Let's just nip this in the bud," Christian says, not allowing the conversation to go south. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear. I know who you are and I know how you play. If any pictures come out of you and Ana's father, I'm going to let you handle it and appropriately diffuse the situation. If you don't, I promise you that I am going to personally skin you alive—_slowly—_and watch you bleed to death! Not a judge in the state would convict me!" There is so much hatred and disdain in his voice that one could make no mistake that he was dead serious.

"I didn't know he was her father," she says, her voice shaking.

"Well, now you do!" Christian spits. "And you should really hope that if there were any pictures taken that they don't make it to the press because even though I sought you out, right now you are in violation of your restraining order, and you were in violation when you spoke to a member of Ana's family. Since an arrest of any kind will result in revocation of your bail and will land your ass back in jail, you should want to stay as far away from us as you can." He sneers at her and takes my hand, gently leading me towards the mezzanine to Dad and Mandy.

That's _my _man.

We approach a confused Ray and Mandy, concern etched on their faces.

"Have I done something wrong, Annie?" Ray asks concern.

"No, Dad, no!" I say, taking his arm and squeezing gently. "I just wanted to get you and Mandy alone so that we explain to her what was going on in case pictures of you and Catwoman come out tomorrow." Ray nods acknowledgement.

"Catwoman?" Mandy asks bemused. I take a deep breath and explain as much to her as I can about the conniving Elena Lincoln without telling her any of Christian's past.

"Her arrest has been quite the scandal so she has been pretty much shunned from all of the social circles," Christian adds. "I saw her at the door earlier. She couldn't even get in. I'm surprised that she even got past the doorman." Mandy sighs heavily.

"It's hard being you, isn't it?" she says, looking at me sympathetically. I shrug.

"Hey, I adjust. It's harder being him," I say gesturing to Christian, who smiles adoringly at me. "Being with my father may bring you into the spotlight a bit, too. Not as much as me, of course, but you may see it sometimes. I just wanted you to be prepared." She smiles.

"Thank you, Ana. I appreciate that." She clings to Ray's arm and looks lovingly into his eyes. "Don't worry, Baby. Cameras don't scare me, and neither will Catwoman." She and Daddy share a sweet kiss and I can't help but cling to Christian's arm. Noticing my grip, he lifts my face by my chin.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly, and I smile.

"I'm perfect," I reply.

"Yes, you are," he says before planting a chaste kiss on my lips. Then, he and my daddy lead their ladies to dinner. We sit down to dinner and we are all at the same table except for our parents, who sat at another table nearby with friends of Carrick and Grace. Again, I take note of where She-Thing is sitting and she is at a table near the door. To be honest, although there are four other people sitting there with her, the table looks as if it was set up quite hastily—you know, like an afterthought. There are only the five place settings and they aren't as elaborate as all of the others in the room. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that her presence here was not only unexpected, but also unwelcome. I turn my head before she gets the chance to see me spying her, happy that she is not in my direct line of sight. If anything, I just want to know where she's situated to avoid any interaction with her.

We chat with our friends while we enjoy our choice of seared halibut or grilled crusted sirloin with seasonal vegetables. Also during this time, pictures of the families are shown in a slide show on various screens across the room. They are on a time delay and run repeatedly, different pictures on different screens. They are pictures of the families at different events sponsored by different agencies or just family pictures that were submitted. I take a moment to look at the pictures then continue with dinner and conversation.

"Jewel, is that you?" I look over at Al who is pointing to one of the screens. I follow his finger and do a double-take as I see Marlow and me talking on what looks like the first day we met. That would have been months ago—when Christian was in Green Valley! Who could have possibly taken this picture?

"I thought you said this event wasn't sponsored by _Helping Hands,"_ I say to Christian.

"It's not," he says, spellbound looking at my picture traveling across the screens, leaning in talking to this angry troubled teen. "That's Marlow," he says in recognition.

"Yes. I have no idea who took this picture. Everybody was leaving when we started talking. Nobody was in the room until..." That's when I remembered that Grace and Marlow's mother, Marcia, were standing in the door when we finished our conversation. I look over at Grace who is engaged in conversation with her supper-mates. I will have to ask her about this later, I think to myself as a smile threatens the edge of my lips. "I think it was your mother... or _his_ mother," I say to Christian.

"See? You affect everyone that you meet," he says, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing it softly.

During dessert, we thumb through the program to see the names and stories of all of the families. I know that it is literally a 1 in 100 chance that we will get to sponsor Marlow, but a girl can hope. I have become very attached to him since pulling him out of his shell. I can understand how Flynn would have become attached to Christian in this way. The difference is that I would never try to enforce my will upon Marlow in the unprofessional way that Flynn tried with Christian.

There is a speech givin by the director of the Greater Seattle Family Assistance Group as well as an acknowledgement for the mayor who is in attendance. Finally, the drawing begins. The pictures that were being displayed on the screens have now been replaced by an empty list. Two spinning baskets are rolled onto the stage by two young blondes who look a lot like Vanna White. Each one takes a position on either side of the master of ceremonies and the drawing begins.

"Our first sponsor is..." Vanna #1 pulls a tiny scroll from the rolling basket. "... Carl and Martha Ulmand." The Ulmands name pop up on the screen in the first line on the left side of the list. "Mr. and Mrs. Ulmand, your adopted family this year will be..." Vanna #2 pulls a tiny scroll from her rolling basket. " … The Moore Family; Sheila and her two boys, Michael and Charles." A picture of a young woman and her two young boys flashes on the screens surrounding the room and the crowd applauds politely.

This goes on for quite some time since there are 100 sponsors and 100 families. The waitstaff is sure to keep various wines and champagnes flowing to keep the grumbling to a minimum. Somewhere around #36, I turn to see that She-Thing has deserted her seat in the exile section. Good! Maybe she's gone back to her casket! I'm lost in thoughts of one Pedo-Bitch-She-Thing being buried alive in an unmarked tomb, scratching at the sarcophagus screaming for her very life when I hear, "Number 41—Christian Grey and Dr. Anastasia Steele."

Okay, I'm awake now. Christian takes my hand and smiles at me.

"Mr. Grey and Dr. Steele, your adopted family this year will be..." Please say the Whitehead Family. Please say the Whitehead Family...

"... The Martin Family; Rashon and Joseph and their three children, Kimberly, Johnathan, and Ronald." My heart breaks a little. I plaster a smile on my face and clap. I am very happy to be a part of this event and to be able to help a family in need, but I was hoping too much that we would get Marlow's family. Christian notices my obvious disappointment and I feel so childish for acting this way. I really need to get it together.

"I'll be back. I need the ladies room," I say, standing.

"Are you okay?" he asks as he and the other gentlemen at the table stand as well. Oh, good grief, I forgot about that. So much for sneaking away quietly.

"I'm fine," I say squeezing his hand. "I won't be a minute." I smile at him and scurry off to the ladies room. I can't help the disappointment that I feel that we didn't get to adopt the Whiteheads. I don't know why I'm feeling this way. It's not the end of the world. I see them every week and I told him and his mother to be sure that I know if they ever need anything. I haven't met the little sister, Marion, yet but I look forward to the day that I can. Okay, Dr. Steele, stop acting like a toddler who just got her favorite toy taken and get your ass back out there before your boyfriend storms the bathroom. I touch up my lipstick and proceed out of the bathroom.

"The nerve of these people! I've been on the committee for 11 years, and they couldn't find me on the list?" Oh shit, I thought she had left. I stay pressed against the bathroom door until I can determine which direction her voice is coming from—so that I can go the other way.

"Then they sit me in the corner with the Jeffersons. The Jeffersons...of all people!" Apparently she doesn't like the Jeffersons... and her voice is coming from the right. I look to the left to plot my exit.

"I'm in the corner while the Greys are front and center, Christian sitting with that sawed-off, pretentious little social climber." Social climber? Is she serious?

"I never got that impression," I hear another woman say. "She seems very genuine to me and Christian is completely smitten with her. Why would you be concerned about it anyway?" … Because she fucked him when he was a teenager and she's angry because I'm fucking him now!

"I'm a very close friend of the family," She-Thing purrs. "I have known them for years—since the children were very little. Christian was quite the troubled child," she whispers like it's a secret that needs to be kept, which it is.

"Was he?" I can't tell if this other voice is actually interested in what She-Thing is saying or just humoring her, so to speak, but she doesn't sound sincere at all.

"Oh yes," She-Thing continues. "He was quite the ladies man once he found his fortune. This girl is probably some arranged girlfriend to make him appear more settled," she accuses. Oh, this vindictive, spiteful bitch!

"That's strange. I've never seen Christian with any women—not in the paper, not at fundraisers, nowhere."

"Well, he couldn't very well bring those types of women around his family or proper society, could he?" she continues with her lies. "Why, just a few moments ago, her father came on to me!" Oh, no the fuck she didn't. Now, I'm ready to charge out there like a bull until I hear her companion's response.

"You must have been mistaken, Elena," she says in disbelief. "I've met her father and his fiancee. Christian introduced us. Have you seen that woman? Gorgeous, young, and pregnant... and undeniably smitten with Mr. Steele. I'm sorry to tell you this, but none of us could hold a candle to her, not even you with all of your... work." Ouch! "So, like I said, you must have been mistaken."

"Well, I don't know. A woman knows when a man is coming on to her," She-Thing purrs. She just doesn't know when to quit. "They both have the Greys fooled, but I can see right through them. They are nothing but filthy little opportunists. Of course, you know that she's only after his money." … And there it is. The serpent is spitting the ultimate venom. I stand close to the door just out of sight, but I can see that the woman that she is talking to is wearing a beautiful royal blue evening gown, holding her purse in her hands in front of her regarding She-Thing rather impassively. "She'll probably end up pregnant and trap him with a baby. She has him completely brainwashed. Poor Grace is beside herself wondering what is going on."

How can anyone be so damn spiteful? After everything that she is currently going through, she still hasn't learned anything? This is so beyond my level of comprehension.

"Really?" the Blue Gown responds to She-Thing's claims. "I hadn't noticed. Grace seems very happy these days. In fact, all she talks about is 'Christian this' and 'Anastasia that.' She says the girl is a Godsend." Grace says that to people about me? No wonder so many people were clamoring to meet me.

"It's all an act, Dear. She can't tell anybody that her son has been trapped by a worthless gold-digger. It would completely ruin their reputation. Can you even imagine?"

"No, I can't," Blue Gown retorts, "just like I can't imagine being arrested and dragged away in handcuffs on the six o'clock news." She-Thing's eyes narrow and she continues with her campaign.

"You know that I'll be cleared of those charges," she says. "I mean they are ridiculous! Me with children? That's sick! I'm obviously being framed and I don't doubt that Christian and his little tart have something to do with it!" She is losing her cool, a point that doesn't escape Blue Gown.

"I see," Blue Gown says shifting her purse to her shoulder. "Well, I'm sure that justice will prevail and the truth will surely come out in this matter. When the trial is over, come by and see me and we'll have lunch and catch up." Blue Gown makes to leave.

"Tina!" She-Thing calls behind her and she stops. "What do you mean _when the trial is over?_ The trial could take months... or even years! We've been friends for more than a decade! Doesn't that mean anything?" Blue Gown, erm, Tina walks back to She-Thing.

"That may be true, Elena, and I have valued your friendship over the years, but right now you are persona non grata. You have a bad reputation and anybody seen with you will have a bad reputation as well. I have no idea if the allegations against you have any merit, but in the social circles, you have been tried and convicted. There is no reason whatsoever that pornographic pictures of children would be in your mansion except that you put them there or like you said you were framed. I am certain that the authorities will get to the bottom of it, but until they do, no one wants to be associated with you or anything that has to do with child pornography. What I find so strange is that this time last year, you were the Greys' closest friend, Christian in particular. I would often see you at lunch with him. Now you are spreading horrible things about him and his family, and the only thing that I can see that has changed is that he's got a girlfriend now. You act like you..." The dawn of realization comes over Tina's face. Shit, this is not good. This can go either way... and either way could be catastrophic. "I have to go now, Elena. Take care of yourself." Tina moves quickly away from Elena but stops to land one final blow. "By the way, you weren't on the list because you're not on the committee anymore. April Caldwell is taking your place. We deal with families... with _children_. We can't have someone on the committee that is being accused of engaging in child pornography. I'm sure you understand." With that, Tina turns and leaves Elena standing in the hallway.

Now I come out of my hiding place. I have nothing to say, but I want her to know that I heard the whole conversation. I stand there, glaring at her. She meets my gaze, but her eyes are unreadable. I can't tell if I see anger or fear or anguish—maybe even hurt—but I don't linger. After a few seconds, I return to the Grand Lobby.

"Now is the time," I say to Christian as I return to my seat.

"Time for what, Baby?" he asks after he pushes my chair in underneath me. The drawing is now on #79 and I don't know if the Whiteheads have been drawn or not.

"You need to make her leave." His pupils contract.

"Did she say something to you?" he asks.

No, but she said something about me, and you, and my father, and Grace..." I pointed out Tina to him and relayed as much of the conversation to him that I could remember. "She's still not in her seat, so I am assuming that she is standing outside of the bathroom ambushing anyone that will listen. What's worse? I'm 90% certain that _Tina_ put two and two together and knows that you and Elena had a relationship."

"Shit!" he hisses, before standing from the table and walking towards the door. Carrick tries to get his attention before he leaves, but Christian is a man on a mission. Grace looks over at me questioning and I try to tell her what I can with my eyes, but I know that it's no good. Instead, I look to the screen and see that #63, Mr. and Mrs. Little, are the lucky sponsors of the Whitehead family. I should be happy that there are people out there that are willing to do something like this and I just don't worry about it anymore. A few more drawings and this part of the event is over. I nearly fall over myself trying to get out of the Grand Lobby to see what is going on, but Grace calls to me—no doubt also wanting to know what's going on. Damn it, I can't ignore her.

"What's going on?" she says, a little demanding.

"Elena is here, and she's been causing problems," I say a little perturbed.

"What do you mean?" Grace presses.

"I'll have to tell you later. I need to find Christian." I try to make another getaway.

"Ana! What kinds of problems?" she says, demanding again. I sigh.

"Grace, I have to tell you later. I have to find Christian. He was angry when he left. I don't know what he's going to do." I see the pleading look in her eye, but I have to go and find him before he kills her. I turn around and bump into someone so hard that it knocks the wind out of me and I nearly fall down.

Fuck!

"Baby! I'm sorry! Are you okay?" It's Christian. I'm a bit stunned and he's holding me up. I'm sure if he lets go, my legs will fail. I can't say anything because I'm literally trying to catch my breath. Someone brings a chair behind me and Christian sits me down gently, kneeling in front of me.

"Please don't fuss over me. I'm fine," I say, trying to avoid unwanted attention.

"You're not fine. You can barely breathe," Christian protests.

"Christian, please make everyone go back to their seats. Please..." He sees the pleading in my eyes and waves everyone away from me. "Thank you."

"Are you okay?" he asks again.

"I'm fine. Is she gone?"

"Any second now." Almost on cue, I see She-Thing don her Cloak of Evil before being escorted from the premises by security. She didn't even look back. I take a deep breath and let it out. "Better now?" he asks. I nod.

"Much better now," I respond.

"Sweet Child, are you okay?" I look up into the face of none other than Blue Gown Tina.

"Yes, Ma'am, I'm fine," I say with a forced smile. "I just need to watch where I'm going." We both laugh insincerely.

"While I have you both together..." oh shit, here it comes. She takes a seat in an empty chair nearby. "I need to tell you that that spiteful witch Elena Lincoln is spreading terrible rumors about you and your family." Hmm... she's on our side? Pretending to be? I don't know any of these people.

"Like what, Mrs. Franklin?" Christian asks. She regurgitated the story nearly word for word that I told Christian. Maybe she _is_ on our side. Christian runs his hands through his hair.

"We just had her removed for approaching Ana's father. There is a no-contact order outstanding against her. She should have left the moment she knew that we were here. Then again, she probably knew that we were her before she got here."

"A no-contact order? Is it that serious?" Mrs. Franklin asks.

"Yes, it is unfortunately. Being that she was a friend of the family, I was partial owner of her Esclava Salons—a decision that I made when her husband left her all those years ago since she and my mother were so close," he lies. "Since I participate in many philanthropic causes, most of my business contracts contain morality clauses that in some way wholly or partially nullify the contract in the event of arrest or amoral behavior. Considering that an arrest on child pornography qualifies under both of those conditions, GEH enforced the morality clause and seized the businesses. Since she had business debts, the banks got word of the seizure and exercised first lien rights. I bought the businesses from the banks."

"Well, why not just give the businesses back to her?" Mrs. Franklin asks.

"So that she can use it to pay for her defense against young boys and young men looking for justice against her?" Christian questions. Mrs. Franklin nods.

"I see what you mean. So the no-contact clause was to keep her away from the salons?"

"That, and to keep her away from my girlfriend. She's been malicious to Ana since the day they met," Christian says. Mrs. Franklin shakes her head.

"Well, she sure is a piece of work," she says. "A grown woman and little boys... and she had the nerve to mention 'proper society.'" Mrs. Franklin is thoroughly disgusted. "Thank you for sharing that information with me, Christian. I don't know how many of the other ladies she has gotten to, but you may want to look for her at functions from here on out—at least until she's blackballed completely, which I will work on in the morning. I'm a terrible snob. I'm not ashamed of it. However, rich or not, I want nothing to do with a child molester."

"Oh she's not rich anymore," Christian says and Mrs. Franklin's interest is piqued. "Well," he continues, "she doesn't have her house anymore because it's been seized by the police. She doesn't have her businesses anymore because they've been sold by the bank. Her liquid funds were used for her bail. Where she's living and who is taking care of her, I have no idea, but she doesn't have any money left."

"Oh good Lord!" Mrs. Franklin exclaims. "So why was she even here? This was the Adopt-A-Family Affair. She couldn't adopt a family—was she hoping someone would adopt her?" I break into laughter that Tina had the same thought I had earlier in the evening.

"I'm thinking that she was hoping to save some of her social standing, but I think that's all gone now." Christian said. Mrs. Franklin's shakes her head again.

"I'll say it is, and what's left will be shattered by this time tomorrow." She stands and takes my hand. "I knew him when he was a child, too, Dear. I wasn't as—prominent—in his life as Mrs. Lincoln was, but I know where he came from and I'm very happy to see where he's going. I'll take care of Mrs. Lincoln. You take care of him." She winks at me, then kisses Christian on the cheek. He surprises her by pulling her in for a hug. She gasps and returns his embrace, then looks at me with the same grateful look I saw in Grace's eyes the first time Christian hugged her, before beating a hasty retreat.

"Christian, who was that woman?" I ask him.

"To everybody else, that's Mrs. Franklin. To me, that's Aunt Tina. Whenever I wanted to hide, I hid under Aunt Tina's huge porch. She found me there one day and brought me lemonade and cookies. Nearly every day after that, she left lemonade and cookies on the table on the porch in case I wanted to come and hide. She would sit on the steps and talk to me while I hid under the porch. She couldn't help me. No one could until..." He trails off and I know what he was about to say. "I stopped going over there when I was 15. She knew something wasn't right. She even told my mother, but nobody knew what was really going on... nobody except me and the Pedophile." He looks wistfully at Mrs. Franklin. "Every so often, I still sneak over for lemonade and cookies."

"You do?" I say, my voice full of wonder. He nods. What a wonderful gesture. "If it's okay, can I sneak over once, too?" He smiles at me lovingly as he touches my face.

"I think she'd like that very much," he says, softly before kissing my lips gently and bringing my forehead to his. "I love you, Butterfly," he says, his eyes closed.

"I love you, too, Baby," I say softly. We share a moment together, then I have to break the silence. "We need to talk to Grace. She's concerned about what's happening and I may have been a bit short with her earlier when I was about to go and find you." He nods, takes my hand, and leads me over to the table where his mother and Carrick have been sitting alone. I sit next to Grace and Christian sits next to me.

"Grace, I'm sorry if I was short with you earlier. I was just so eager to find Christian and make sure that everything was alright..." I begin.

"I know, Ana," she says, covering my hand with hers. "I have come to understand that nothing stands in your way when it comes to my son, not even his mother." I don't know how to take that. I'm not trying to take him away from her. "Don't read too much into it, Dear Girl. Had he had someone in his corner like you a long time ago, a lot of the things that happened to him may not have happened," she says almost mournfully.

"Mom, you can't blame yourself for any of that," Christian tries to tell his mother. She looks at him wistfully.

"When you have children of your own one day, you'll understand. It was my job to protect you, and I didn't. Even though some things are out of my hands, and I understand that, Dr. Steele," she says, throwing a knowing look over to me and squeezing my hand, "I will never get beyond the feeling that I failed to do everything in my power to protect my baby boy." Christian drops his head.

"I hate that woman," he says, through his teeth. "I hate that woman for what she has done to my family." I don't know what to do with him right now. Luckily, he does. Music begins to play and he stands and walks over to Grace.

"Dance with me, Mommy," he says, holding his hand out to her. I swear that I see years of hurt and pain instantly wash away from her face as she takes her son's hand and follows him to the dance floor. I watch Christian and his mother glide across the floor as the band plays "Take The A-Train." Grace looks like a teenager, smiling with a twinkle in her eye that I am sure that I've never seen. I can't help but smile as I watch them, both so light on their feet dancing to a lively tune.

"I don't ever remember him dancing with her." Carrick's voice breaks me from my thoughts.

"Never?" I ask, in amazement. Carrick shakes his head. Oh my God. No wonder she looks so wistful right now.

"Ana, I can't begin to tell you how much you mean to this family. You have turned Christian into a new man. We can hardly believe it."

"He means a lot to me," I say watching him on the floor with his mother.

"I can tell," Carrick says looking at me. I turn to look at him and can't really read what's in his eyes. I see the questions but I don't really know what they are. "Be careful with his heart, Anastasia. He's a strong man, but yet so fragile." The questions I saw have now turned to pleading. He and Grace are trying to so hard to right a wrong that was truly not their fault, and I know that I just have to let them work through it. His words go straight to my heart and I can feel his pain, that same pain that he felt when he wept in Christian's arms at the breakfast bar at Escala. It's a bit overwhelming and I fight back most of the tears that threaten to fall because of his pain.

"I will," I squeak. I wish I could convince them that they are not at fault and that they truly did everything that they could, but unfortunately there are some demons you have to get over on your own while others never seem to leave you alone.

"Daddy?" I hear Mia's voice behind me. "Are you okay?" Carrick quickly pulls himself together for his daughter.

"Maybe just a bit jealous of Grace right now since she's dancing with her son," he says with a smile.

"Oh," Mia says, playfully. "Well, we can't have that, now can we?" She smiles at her father, takes his hand and leads him to the dance floor. I watch the Greys and their children spin around the floor as the band starts another Duke Ellington tune "It Don't Mean A Thing." The next thing I know, there are fathers and daughters and mothers and sons taking the floor all over the place. No one wants to be left out. It's a very touching scene.

"Well, I'd like to dance with my little girl, too." There's my daddy. I didn't want to put him on the spot because I've never seen him dance. When he holds his hand out to me, I gladly take it and allow him to lead me to the dance floor and guess what?

My dad can dance!

One more thing I get to learn about my remarkable daddy. He's an awesome lover, I'm told—though that may have been too much information—he's going to be a husband and a father again, and I'm going to have a whole new family to love. My daddy spins me around on the dance floor as the band starts to play Glenn Miller's "In The Mood," and away we go...

… Kids dancing with their parents to old time Big Band music and having the time of our lives until our feet hurt and we all had to be poured into limousines, riding happily and exhausted back to Bellevue.

* * *

_**A/N: **_

_**Check out Duke Ellington and Glenn Miller on YouTube for some great Big Band music like they don't even play anywhere anymore. I have the three songs mentioned above on my Pinterest page and you are very likely to recognize at least one of them if not all of them when you hear them even though they are upwards of 70 to 80 years old.**_

_**Pictures of places, cars, fashion, etc can be found at pinterest ladeeceo/mending-dr-steele/**_

_**Shoot me over an email at divinebronzegoddess gmail . com (no spaces of course) to join my mailing list and stay up to date on blogs, publishing of my stories, etc.**_

_**Feel free to review—it is greatly appreciated.**_

_**Love and Handcuffs!  
Lynn x  
**_


	6. And Back To Hell

_**There is a guest reviewer from "Paging Dr. Steele." Her name is Tae. If you are reading this, you gave me your email to add you to my mailing list. I tried to send you something and the email bounced back. If you haven't done so already, will you send me an email to divinebronzegoddess at gmail . com (no spaces of course and use the "at" sign) and I will add you to the mailing list. Thanks!**_

_**Thank you to the guests who are still reading Paging Dr. Steele, even the one that told me I turned Christian into a bitch. Yeah, whatever...**_

_**I want to say "thank you" to my readers who understand that Ana and Christian are both going through some tremendous emotional transitions and growth. We all know that change is often quite taxing and growth is usually very difficult and bumpy, which is why they call them "growing pains." **_

_**To the guest who didn't seem pleased with CG and Ana's laughter at the "getting caught" moment—Thank you for your review, but I have to tell you. Sorry, but if that were me, I would have done the EXACT same thing that CG and Ana did. I would have told them to get the fuck out of my room and when they closed the door, I would have been cracking the fuck up! Me and my husband would have been ROLLING—I mean side-splitting, hyena-cackling, rolling laughing out loud. Then, we would have gotten dressed, went out there and TEASED whoever it was that walked in on us:**_

"_**Didn't you hear us fucking? I know you heard us fucking on the other side of that door."  
"Be honest, you wanted see Christian's ass, didn't you?"  
"You were trying to get some pointers, huh?"  
"Don't lie! All this ass had you mesmerized! You could have caught flies in your mouth!" **_

_**My husband fucks ME. If someone walks in on us and sees that dick, drool Baby because it's all mine. If they don't have the good sense to cover their eyes or back the fuck up out the room, I'm going to let them have it, then I'm going to laugh at them, then I'm going to tease them incessantly. That's just how I am—so I gave Ana and Christian that characteristic of me. ;-)**_

_**To Angela—Thanks for your review. Nope, my degrees are not in psychology. They are in accounting and business. ;-)**_

_**To Shaun Brent—Thanks for your review. I have to say that you have some great suggestions. I should tell you that tangents are my specialty, lol. I can't tell you which but a piece of ONE of those was already in the works. ;-)**_

_**To Teresaromance—Thanks for your review and OMG you're kidding me? On another continent!? That makes me SO happy. I know that I have readers everywhere, but for one to go to another continent and then you two to bump into each other—that's awesome! ;-)**_

_**To my "Glenn Miller, Tommy Dorsey, Satchmo" guest—Yeah, Baby! That's what I'm talking about! Louis' face TRANSFORMED when he played! It was phenomenal! Thanks for the review... and the memories. ;-)**_

_**Thank you to Ana (you're welcome), Carol, CG Girl, Gwen, Hun, lvigil, Karen, liz sellito, Lori F, Michelle b (excellent song suggestion, I'll give it some thought—the words are perfect), Tj (you are SO right!), and my guest that I can't name. I appreciate your feedback. **_

_**On to the story... All previous disclaimers apply.**_

**Chapter 6—And Back to Hell **

_**STEELE**_

"We've decided that we want to get married on New Year's Eve," Daddy announces. "The little woman is already nine weeks along and has told me that she doesn't want her wedding pictures to reveal that she has a bun in the oven." We are having a brunch of Eggs Benedict with Canadian bacon, goat cheese with garlic toast and plum sauce, Brioche French toast sticks with maple syrup and fresh berries, Italian maple sausage, country hominy grits smothered in cheese and butter, buttermilk biscuits and honey, orange juice, coffee, and Mimosas. "Everybody is going to be partying themselves stupid anyway. We might as well make a night of it, and I sure as hell won't ever forget my anniversary."

Christian and I look at each other but say nothing. What my daddy wants, my daddy gets. My daddy also knows me better than anyone else in the world.

"What is it Annie?" he asks, seeing right through my facade.

"Nothing, Daddy. Really."

"Don't give me that 'nothing, Daddy' stuff, Anastasia Rose Steele!" Uh oh... "Tell me what it is." I sigh.

"We were going to host New Year's Eve at Escala, but that's okay, Daddy. Seriously, I want you and Mandy to have whatever you want."

"Oh my God... Escala... That place is beautiful," Mandy looks over at my father and I have to love the way that they read each other's thoughts.

"Do you think? We can't impose like that," Daddy says to her, thinking he's speaking too low to be heard.

"Impose, Daddy!" I shout before I can think about it. Then I look over at Christian who is stifling a laugh and nodding at the same time. "I mean, we'd love to host your wedding at the New Year's Eve party at Escala if you will allow it. It will only be who you've already seen over this weekend and Gary, Marilyn, and Phil... and of course, anyone that you want to invite."

"Oh, Ana, that's sounds wonderful! Ray?" Mandy says, hopeful.

"Well, it looks like we're having a wedding at Escala on New Year's Eve." The whole room bursts into a cheer and again the drinks are flowing. There's a lot that needs to be done between now and New Year's Eve, but I'm going to make sure that my daddy and soon-to-be stepmother have exactly what they want.

* * *

Escala has private party facilities called Club Cielo and catering done by Columbia Hospitality. I made reservations for New Year's Eve and set up a meeting for Mandy and me to check things out. I was quite shocked to see that no one had reserved the space by now, but all the better for us, right?

We've decided that the wedding and initial refreshments and dinner will take place in the club. However, bringing in the new year will be moved to the penthouse for a more intimate setting before sending Daddy and Mandy off to a special getaway that we have planned for them. I had to clear as much as I could with them without exactly telling them about the surprise. I want them to be happy and have fun, but I don't want them to feel pressured into accepting anything.

It's Tuesday afternoon and I am in my office having lunch and looking at emails. We've got a lot done in just two days. Mandy thinks she may have found someone to make the dress that she wants on short notice. Mandy and Daddy are easy to please, so Columbia was able to provide the perfect menu for dinner. Finding a minister willing to perform a ceremony on New Years Eve was a bit more of a challenge. However, we were able to get one of the judges that Mandy works for to perform the ceremony on the condition that she would be home in time to spend New Years Eve with her family. I can imagine that the fact that there would be a small amount of publicity involved in officiating the wedding of the father of Christian Grey's girlfriend on New Years Eve didn't hurt matters either.

Seeing that there are so many people to contact and so much to do for an impromptu wedding on New Years Eve, no matter how small the affair, I didn't pay much attention to the addresses the mail came from. I mainly looked at the subject line. So when I say an email marked "Ana, This Is Something That You Need To See," I immediately saw pictures of one of the vendors canceling for another affair in my head. The next thought that came to my mind was that She-Thing was up to her old tricks. I open the unmarked email, certain that it was most likely coming from that bleached blonde bitch.

I didn't know how wrong I was.

I watched the familiar face snarling at the camera. It's daylight, bright and shiny—and there is no mistaking who is in this video. Brown eyes laughing, cracking jokes like any other day of the week... any other bright and shiny sunny day.

"No..." My throat is closing on me. Young and beautiful, and walking up behind an unsuspecting victim.

"NO!" I scream! "NO! NO!" I attempt to throw my monitor across my office, but the cords prevent it from going too far and it shatters against the side of my desk, hanging black and useless by it's cord.

"NO!" I'm weeping and screaming now. "NO! NO! NO!" I can't say anything else. I can't _think_ anything else. I can't believe this. Of all the things that I want to say right now, all I can think is "NO!" I see Chuck and Marilyn burst into my office and I want to tell them what is going on, but I can't. I can't bring myself to say it... to look at it. I can't. All I can think is "NO!"

* * *

_**GREY**_

This company in Indiana is really giving me a lot of headache. They know I am eager to close the deal because a steel company in Indiana along with a rubber company in Ohio would be quite the coup for my manufacturing companies... but these bastards keep holding out on me. They think I'm desperate enough to pay nearly twice what the company is worth. They don't know that I have two other steel companies flirting with me right now and if I acquired those two, I would certainly have the resources that I need at nearly the cost of the one in Indiana, and the benefit of being able to say that these bastards didn't manage to break me down. I think I may just go that route. I call up to Ros' office.

"Ros, find out what the companies in River Rouge and Russia are talking about. I've had about enough of these games from Felden Steele. I about ready to let them take their deal and shove it."

"_Are you sure about that, Christian?"_ Ros cautions. _"Felden's factories are already built out and prepared for the specs we need for the shipyards as well as the equipment that we will be using and building."_

"Yes, I know, but you know that I can't let this bastard get me over a barrel like he's my only option. We can retrofit the other two factories to accommodate our needs."

"_Yes, we can, but if we do, we will be spending even more than we would spend on Felden." _

"I'm aware of that, Ros, but this asshole is trying to gouge me. You know it and he knows it. He won't even budge," I state.

"_So you're going to pay nearly one and a half times as much to buy two separate factories and retrofit them for something that Felden is already equipped to do just to spite him?"_ I ponder what she's saying.

"Not necessarily to spite him, but I'm not going to let him gouge me."

"_Okay, think of this. Word gets out that if you charge Christian Grey too much, he'll pay another company more money just to spite you. You will have failing companies teaming up against you all over the world."_ I rub my chin.

"Actually, it might be a better deal anyway and this is how we're going to sell it if we can get it. With a factory in the states _and_ a factory overseas, we are satisfying all of our manufacturing needs for steel without the import/export problems. You can probably work the price down a bit since we would have to retrofit the factories for our specific needs. Russia may not be that easy a fix, buy River Rouge will because they know we are looking at Indiana. See how far you can bring them down based on that information. If we play our cards right, we just might get all three." Ros pauses.

"_That's why you're the boss,"_ she says. _"I was so focused on the Felden deal that I never even thought of that. I'll get right on it." _

"Good deal," I say before hanging up the phone. I'm looking over the numbers for Felden again when Jason comes into my office, a look of urgency marring his face. "What's wrong?" I ask immediately.

"It's Ana, Sir. I don't know what has happened, but Chuck says she was hysterical and he had to basically carry her out of the office. She's back at Escala." I launch myself from my seat.

"Did someone die?" I ask grabbing my suit jacket from the back of my chair.

"I don't know, Sir."

"Is Allen still upstairs?" I ask.

"Yes Sir. Do you want me to call him?"

"No... Let me find out what's going on first." I breeze past Andrea with quick instructions. "Cancel all of my appointments today! Let Ros know that I had an emergency and she's in charge."

"Yes Sir!" she yells after me as Jason and I dash into the elevator.

I can't move through the apartment fast enough when we arrive. Gail is coming out of the kitchen bringing refreshments to a pale Marilyn being comforted by Garrett. Davenport is close by and they all look in my direction when I burst through the door.

"What happened?" I say to no one in particular... and no one answers. "Somebody tell me what happened!" I demand, noting the desperation in my own voice.

"Nobody knows, Sir," Davenport volunteers. "I heard her screaming 'no' so I went to her office and she had destroyed her computer monitor." I run my hands through my hair.

"Have you checked on Ray? Did he make it back to Montesano okay?" I ask.

"Yes, Sir. I took the liberty to call him under just that guise. I didn't want him to know that Ana was upset especially since I didn't know why. So I just told him that I was checking on him to make sure that he made it back smoothly."

"Good man," I say. "What about Carla Morton?" I ask. I know that I'm reaching for straws here.

"Sir, in all honesty, I doubt that she would react this way to the demise of Carla Morton... a little grief and regret, maybe. This is full-on hysteria," Davenport informs me.

"Well, what has she said? Anything?" I am really desperate now.

"Yes Sir. She has repeatedly said 'no.' All the way home, that's all she said." This is really bad. I look to Garrett.

"Is everybody okay?" I ask him about Butterfly's closest friends.

"I haven't spoken to everybody, Chris, but ever since Ana's kidnapping, we are _all_ a part of the 'Contingency Plan' now. If something was wrong with one of us, I would know... and Ana wouldn't fall apart. She would at least activate the Contingency Plan," Garrett responds.

"Do you have any ideas?" I ask the ashen Marilyn. She shakes her head slowly in a defeated manner. "Do you know what she was doing before this happened?"

"Most likely checking her emails. That's what she does in downtime," Marilyn informs us. I nod.

"Call Allen and see if there are any sudden developments in David's case. If not, let him know what's going on. He would want to be informed. Then call Barney. Go get him and take him to Butterfly's office. Tell him to take a monitor with him and find out what was the last thing that she was doing," I instruct Davenport.

"We'll go with you. You can't get into the office without me," Marilyn says and Davenport nods. The three of them leave and I throw a look over to Jason before going into the bedroom to see what's wrong with my Butterfly.

The sight before me is breaking my heart. She is curled on the bed weeping and still wearing her work clothes—a royal blue dress that fits her like a glove and some light blue patent-leather stilettos. I gently sit on the bed next to her and she turns around to look at me. She has the look of a terrified rabbit in her eyes just before she launches herself at me, clinging to me like her life depended on it and weeping even more heavily than before.

"Ssh," I soothe, wrapping my arms around her. "I'm here now, Baby," I say kissing her hair as her body shakes with sobs. I have truly never seen her like this. I am at a total loss of how to help her. "Butterfly, what happened? What's wrong?"

In response to my question, she crawls into my lap and makes herself small, burying her head in my shoulders—still crying. She wasn't like this when I found her after the kidnapping! I've got to find out what happened. Whatever it is, it's pretty damn tragic. I gather her in my arms and rock her. It's all that I can do right now. She nuzzles her head into my neck and shoulder and continues to cry.

"You don't have to talk about it, Baby, but I need you to calm down or you are going to make yourself sick. I'm right here, Baby. I'm not going to leave you, okay? I'll stay right here." I gently stroke her back as I hold her so close to me that we almost feel like one person. I start to hum our song in her ear and after a few moments, her weeping begins to subside. I don't know how much time has passed when there is a gentle tap at the door. Gail peeks her head inside and I just look at her. She brings in a tray with a cranberry spritzer and some pain killers. I mouth a "thank you" to her before she nods and leaves. I am enjoying Butterfly cuddled here in my arms but sick that I don't know the reason for her distress. Again, more time has passed—I don't know how much—and Butterfly's breathing has become regulated. She has fallen asleep. I gently lay her on the bed and kiss her forehead as she stirs. She is my reason for waking up in the morning now, and I _am _going to find out what has upset her so badly.

"I love you, Butterfly," I say softly. She whimpers her response and I leave the room, leaving the door cracked so that I can hear her if she stirs.

I walk into the great room... and the gang's all here. Maxine, Phillip, Marilyn, Garrett, Allen, Valerie—even James and Elliot are here. I sigh heavily.

"Contingency?" I say, looking from face to face.

"Contingency," Al repeats. "When one of us hurts, we all hurt."

"What's going on, Bro?" Elliot asks, concerned.

"I don't know," I say, bemused. I look over and Marilyn is crying while Garrett's expression is a cross between horrified and pissed off. The rest of the group—I can't even place their expressions. What the fuck? Jason comes out of the security office in complete official capacity—something is _very_ wrong.

"We have a development, Sir," he says. I look over at Allen who automatically knows what I am asking him and nods. I follow Jason into the security office. He gestures for me to take a seat at the desk in front of the largest monitor.

"This is the email that was open when we connected a monitor to Ana's laptop, Boss." Oh shit. He has reverted to _Boss_. This is going to be bad. I look at the email from an anonymous address entitled "Ana, This Is Something That You Need To See." I take a deep breath, open the email attachment and prepare myself for the worse.

I still wasn't prepared enough.

A pretty teenage blonde is talking about having some fun and taking care of things in her town. She is surrounded by a few other kids and they all seem to be just strolling down the street on a sunny day. The next two things that I see horrify me to no end.

First, I see Cody fucking Whitmore come into the screen and kiss the beautiful blonde girl hard on the lips. This couldn't be what I think it is... it just couldn't... but the second thing that I see tells me that it is. Even at 15, with her hair up in a ponytail and wearing jeans and a T-shirt, I'd know her anywhere.

It's Butterfly.

They walk up behind her, not bothering to be quiet since it looks like they are walking down the street in broad daylight. I see one of the boys hit her in the head with what looks like a baton of some sort and she goes down. She's so small—even smaller than she is right now—but I know it's her. She didn't have the muscle tone that she has now. An Impala drives up and they toss her in the back seat like a sack of potatoes.

"Now the real fun begins," the blonde says before getting into the passenger seat of another car. They are talking through part of the video—just chatting like kids going to the movies on a Friday night. The video stops, then begins again after the sun has gone down. The blonde, who I am certain is Carly Madison now, is wearing all black clothes and a black cape. She almost looks like a Domme. Her friends have also changed into black clothing with hoods and capes. They are taking pictures like this is some kind of school field trip! No wonder everybody was quiet about it. From the looks of this video, everybody had something on everybody else. If one went down, they _all _went down!

Madison and a few of the others say something ceremonious into the camera before donning their hoods and masks. The camera goes right to the trunk of a car and once they open it, there's my young Butterfly—terrified, crying, and naked. I know what's coming next.

"Turn it off! Turn it off!" I growl. I can't move. I feel a cold sweat forming on my skin and my fists are clenched. I feel nothing but rage—pure unadulterated rage. Jason reaches over me just as they are dragging my baby out of the trunk. Did she see this? Did she see this whole thing? Did Marilyn see it? Garrett? Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I can't think. I'm shaking. They took pictures and videos like this was a party! They tortured her and they treated it like any other social gathering.

"Boss!" I don't know how many times he called me before he yelled, but I know it had to be a few because Jason doesn't yell at me. I throw a look of death at him and he doesn't even flinch. "I'm going to need you to come back, Boss, because if you don't I'm going to douse you in ice water." I must have completely zoned out for him to feel the need to resort to ice water. "I'm also going to need you to release your fists. You're bleeding."

Shit! I pushed my nails through my palms and now I'm bleeding on Jason's desk. Gail is already standing by with the first aid kit and I allow her to quickly clean and dress my wounds. I have to get out of here. I have to get to my Butterfly.

I burst out of the office and walk straight to the bedroom. She's not in bed. I check the en suite and the closet—no Butterfly. I come out of the room and find her sitting on the sofa flanked by Allen and Valerie. I make a bee-line to her, drop on my knees in front of her and take her in my arms pulling her close to me and burying my nose in her hair and she gasps.

"You've seen it," she says so softly that I almost didn't hear her.

"Only part of it. I couldn't watch it all knowing that..." I almost choke a bit. "I couldn't watch it all." My hands move protectively to the small of her back and the nape of her neck. No one will ever hurt my Butterfly again. God help me not to kill these bastards. Butterfly's hands tangle in my hair as she pulls me to her and I close my eyes and just hold her forever.

"What are we going to do now?" she asks, uncertain.

"We're going to find out who sent it... Then we're going to find out who's in it," I promise.

"The blonde is Carly," she squeaks, and I can feel the tears falling on my shoulder again.

"I know, Baby." The silence around us is so thick that you could cut it with a knife, which is pretty impressive considering the number of people in the house right now. I look around at all of our friends... Butterfly's little family... then ask her, "Does everybody know?" She shakes her head. "I think it's time to tell them. These are all of the people who love you, Butterfly." She looks up at me, her eyes filled with tears, then she nods. Valerie surrenders her seat to me and I sit next to Butterfly, holding her close in my arms while she recounts the tale in its entirety to all of the people present—including Elliot and James. I could tell by the reactions who knew the whole story, who knew parts of it, and who had absolutely no clue. None of it mattered though, because by the time Butterfly had finished the story, all of the women were crying and all of the men were seething with anger.

"So after all these years, no one was brought to justice... and now a video just shows up out of nowhere?" Phil says, his voice a mixture of anger and incredulity. Butterfly nods.

"I knew what it was the moment I saw it. I'll never forget that day as long as I live, even the events before they attacked me," she said never raising her eyes. "I had a chemistry test, there was pizza for lunch, and I left my Calculus notebook in my locker and forgot my notes for my homework. I was just thinking that I should probably go back and get it when I got hit." She shudders as she speaks and I tighten my hold on her. That's when she gets a glimpse of the bandages. "Christian! What happened to your hands?"

"Nothing, Butterfly," I say, trying to divert the conversation from my act of anger. I have been doing so well with controlling my emotions, I certainly don't want her to think I have taken two steps back at a crucial moment. I was watching the introduction of the torture of my beautiful Butterfly. I think I did good not to kill someone with my bare hands. I look at her with pleading eyes and she lets the topic drop.

"Somebody has to watch that video," Allen says. "The people that hurt Jewel and killed her unborn baby are on that video and we are not going to know who they all are until we watch it."

"I can't watch it," Butterfly announces.

"Of course you can't, Butterfly."

"I'm the only one who knows who the people are," she says, her voice full of defeat. Damn it, she's right.

"I can't let you watch that," I say definitively. "I can't. I'll find another way."

"How?" she squeaks. My mind is in super CEO mode now. There is no way in hell I would allow Butterfly to watch that damn video. No fucking way! … But she's right. She's the only one that can identify those kids because she went to school with them for two years.

She went to school with them...

I've got it!

"Jason! Barney has a copy of that video, correct?"

"Yes Sir." I pull out my blackberry and type a message to Barney that I know he will get tonight even though he is not in the office.

_**To: Bernard Stubbs**_

_**Re: Green Valley Video**_

_**Date: Tuesday, November 27, 2012, 18:57**_

_**From: Christian Grey**_

_**I want clear pictures of every single face on that video, enhanced to its highest quality. Tomorrow, I will be supplying you with a yearbook. I want every single picture in that yearbook uploaded to the database. Use facial recognition to identify every person in that video. Most likely, they will all be in the yearbook. I'll be in the office as early as possible with the yearbook. This assignment is your first priority over any other project. I want these people identified last week!**_

_**Christian Grey, CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.**_

"I've come up with something. We used facial recognition software to identify Harris and David when you were kidnapped. We can use the same software to identify these assholes." I announce.

"That's right! That way Jewel doesn't have to watch the video!" Allen exclaimed.

"I saw part of it though. It was taken with a cell phone. Do you even think the quality is good enough to recognize anybody?" Butterfly asks.

"Baby, the pictures that we used to identify Harris and David were taken by a camera attached to a parking structure across the street and beyond a parking lot underneath a viaduct... and they were wearing disguises. I think we'll do just fine with this video." I kiss her on the cheek and my blackberry buzzes.

_**To: Christian Grey**_

_**Subject: Way Ahead Of You, Sir**_

_**Date: Tuesday, November 27, 2012, 19:09**_

_**From: Bernard Stubbs**_

_**I'm still in the office, Sir. I had a feeling that you might want to know who was on this video when I saw it. It's pretty gruesome, Sir, but I think I have separated every unique person in this video. That blonde sure likes to be center stage, doesn't she? I'm ready for the yearbook whenever you are.**_

_**Barney Stubbs, Director of Information Technology, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.**_

"Jason! The Green Valley yearbook. It's in the side drawer in my desk in the study. Barney is still at GEH. He was two steps ahead of me. Get it to him quickly." I command.

"Right away, Sir." Jason heads off for my office.

"See, Butterfly? You don't have to look at it. You don't ever have to look at it." I squeeze her hand and she breathes a heavy sigh of relief. Then the tears start again.

"There's a video, Christian. After all of these years, there's a video. All of the asking why and wonder what I did to deserve this, and some disturbed bastard took a video to send to me over a decade later. What kind of sick twisted shit is this?" she screams. Her friends look on in horror as Butterfly breaks down into a mound of turmoil and anguish.

* * *

_**STEELE**_

I awake to Christian gently stroking my hair. The sun is shining and I already know not to bother leaping from the bed in a futile attempt to go to the office and see patients. I don't even remember most of what happened last night, so I know that I must have had some kind of breakdown. Since my therapist was present, I am assuming that there was probably some kind of sedative involved in my slumber which, judging by the highness of the sun, had to be more than 12 hours easily.

"What time is it?" I ask determined not to be shocked if he tells me that I have slept the day away.

"Just after noon." Nope, not shocked. I lay on my back looking at the ceiling, the duvet pulled all the way up to my neck like I am just waking from a coma.

Yep, sedative.

I slowly try to sit up, certain that I will have a hangover from whatever it is that I took... or was given, who knows. Christian puts his hand on my back to help me sit up, then gives me a drink of a cool cranberry spritzer.

"Do you remember anything?" he asks.

"You mean do I remember the fact that some sick fuck sent me a video of my attack? Yes, unfortunately, I do." He rubs my hand.

"I'm sorry about that, Butterfly." I don't need pity right now. I need results.

"Any word from Barney?" I ask, still trying to bring my wobbly head into a sitting position. He examines me for a moment then says,

"He has identified all but two people on the video. He is double-checking to see if he has missed anyone. No one told him that he probably shouldn't have identified you. It was quite a shocker for him. He wants you to know how sorry he is that this has happened to you, and that he will do anything in his power to help." I think that is very sweet of Barney. I know I'm the boss' girlfriend, but he hasn't met me a day in his life and twice he has gone out of his way to help me. I must find a way to show my gratitude. "I think it's time, Butterfly." My eyes widen as I look up at him.

"Time for what?" I ask.

"To unleash hell on Green Valley. Now we can move forward without guessing. It was a horrid thing to see and I'm sorry that you had to see it. Hell, I'm sorry that I had to see it—but that video landed all of those fuckers right into our hands... and removed the guess work. I say we give those bitches and sons of bitches exactly what they have coming to them." I glare at him for only a moment before I say,

"I think you're right."

* * *

_The Nevada Office of the Attorney General says that a local police officer has been arrested on charges of obstruction, evidence tampering, and at least five other violations of the Nevada Revised Statutes. _

_Internal Affairs and AG investigators say that Henderson detective George Sullivan blatantly hid or ignored evidence and vital information while failing to investigate a vicious attack on a Green Valley High School student in 2001 for reasons that are currently undisclosed. _

_Authorities say that the current cold case involves a teenage girl who was brutally beaten and burned and left for dead when Sullivan arrived on the scene. Records show that the teenager was psychologist Dr. Anastasia Steele. Steele is currently living in Seattle with her boyfriend, Christian Grey, entrepreneur and CEO of Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc. Dr. Steele has yet to be reached for comment. _

_Standing alone, any one of these violations holds a penalty of one to five years in prison and $1,000 to $50,000 in fines. Combined, Sullivan could be facing up to 15 years in prison and approximately $350,000 in fines. Although the case is more than a decade old, it is being reopened for investigation and possible prosecution of the offending parties. Channel 13 has learned that an unborn child was killed in the attack. We will keep you informed as this situation develops. _

_In related news, local businessman Franklin Whitmore is being investigated on several charges of corruption including but not limited to insurance fraud, embezzlement, and bribery. Whitmore is the owner of Rancher's Insurance Company which serves several businessmen in the Henderson area. _

_Many of Whitmore's illegal activities have been laundered through a separate holding company that would have gone completely unnoticed had it not been for an anonymous tip to federal authorities. Authorities are investigating a large transfer of funds to Steele's mother and stepfather, Carla and Stephen Morton, shortly following the attack on Steele from Whitmore's personal accounts and how this may relate to the crime. Sources say that Steele was living in Washington with her mother's first husband, Raymond Steele who is not Steele's biological father but gave her his name when he and Mrs. Morton married. Evidence shows that Dr. Steele most likely didn't know of the transfer, but returned to Henderson shortly after the Mortons retrieved her from Washington even though she was registered to attend high school in Montesano in the fall. No doubt this story will have several more ugly twists and turns as it progresses. From Channel 13 News, this is Fallon Stypes reporting. Back to you, Warren. _

I've watched the video at least three times since I got the Google alert this morning on both George Sullivan and Franklin Whitmore. I didn't expect them both to fall so quickly much less simultaneously when I got that video last week. I still haven't figured out who sent the video to me and we don't know who shot it. Was it one person? Several people? Why did they send it now—after all of these years? Whoever was behind the camera most likely sent the video. It's probably some feeble attempt to satisfy their conscience, but to me it's just another fucker that's going to get away with what they did to me.

It's Thursday again, December 5, and I'm waiting to see if Melanie is going to make it to her session. She was a no-call-no-show last week and I can't help but wonder if she has finally succumbed to her illness. I get my answer when her companion wheels her into the office for her appointment. She looks very bad, like she's not going to hold on for much longer.

"You didn't have to come, Melanie," I say softly, stooping down to her chair. "You look like you really need your rest."

"Yes, I did," she protests, her voice weaker than I've ever heard it. "I told you, I have to get in what sessions I can while I can."

"You don't have to rehash your past like this," I tell her. "You should be living the rest of your life in peace."

"That's what I'm trying to do," she says. "I need to let go of all of this shit before I die, and today's session is most important." She looks at me with pleading eyes. I sigh and nod. I sit down while her companion wheels her to her usual position. "What are we talking about today, Dear?"

Melanie sighs heavily. "You've heard of the many things that I regret and even the things that I loved and enjoyed about my life, but there's one thing that I have never told anyone—one secret that I planned to take to my grave. However, since my grave is in reach now, I realize that I can't do that."

"Are you sure that you want to tell me?" I ask. I know the whole doctor/patient privilege thing applies but I'm not sure I want to know this one.

"I have to. I have to tell you." She coughs so that her entire body shakes and her companion rushes to her side and she just shakes her head.

_Good grief, let her tell her story so that she can go home and rest. She's dying right in front of you!  
_You've said a mouthful!

"When I was young, I always wanted to fit in," she begins again and I make it a point not to interrupt her again. "I had this rich cousin who lived in the suburbs. As long as I was her flunky, she allowed me to hang around with her and her rich friends. Most of the time, we had fun. Other times, she made an example of me and made me do things that I really didn't want to do. Some of the things, I hated. We lived in different towns and went to different schools, so luckily none of my friends got to see me doing some of the horrible, humiliating shit that she had me doing. Well, one day, she had me doing one of the worst things I have ever seen or done in my life and I will never forget it. If I take it with me to the afterlife, I'm certain that I will go to hell."

Oh shit, do I really want to hear this? If she tells me that she committed a crime, I have to turn her in.  
_Don't interrupt her, Steele. If that's true, you can report it if you must. She'll be dead by the time they can even prosecute her._  
Well, yes, there is that, isn't there?

"I was part of something that I will regret for the rest of my life. I'll never be able to make up for it. I've suffered from this disease for years—the pain, the anguish, the loss—having hope that I would live and going into remission only to have that hope snatched from me so that I could die slowly and cause my family to suffer watching me die an agonizing, terrible, slow death. Still, if it is penance for what I did, I still don't think it's penance enough. I can only hope that when I meet my maker that He will forgive me for my sins and that one day, I can find forgiveness here on earth against those whom I have wronged." I swallow hard at her words.

"Melanie, I have to ask... Did you kill someone?" I say, softly.

"No, I didn't... but I watched while someone was killed." Oh my God. How can I _not _alert the authorities that this woman was witness to a murder? Has the case been solved? If so, are the perpetrators in jail? Are the _correct _perpetrators in jail? Oh God, can I hear this? I have to. This seems the closest that she will ever get to a confession before she dies... which truly won't be long now.

"G... Go on, Melanie," I say quietly. She sighs heavily.

"I don't know how to say this. No matter how I say it, it will be horrible," she says. I don't reply, so she continues. "I'm dying young. I believe that I am dying young because I watched another young life be ripped from this earth and I did nothing to stop it. I don't think I could have stopped it anyway, not without possibly getting hurt myself, but I did nothing at all. I knew it was being planned. I knew who was involved, I was there when it happened, and I never said anything. I was witness to a murder and I never said anything. It was many years ago and I had plenty of time to say something and, instead, I stayed quiet."

Oh Lord, who was this? Who died? What happened? Morbid curiosity has me wanting to know more, but fear and horror have me wanting to run away.

"She had been planning it for just a couple of weeks, like a dinner party or something. She told others and swore them to secrecy, and they just jumped on the bandwagon, like this was some kind of dance or something. I thought the whole thing was completely insane, but I was too damn scared to say anything. I saw what she could do and now that she wielded this power over this group of mindless lemmings, I was only too certain that had I said anything, I would be next.

"I'll never forget the way that it started. She never saw it coming. Even when she did, she pleaded and begged only to be met with viciousness and cruelty. I didn't know people were even capable of this kind of thing until I saw it with my own eyes. I mean, I saw things like this on television but never in real life. I knew that once this was over, I could never see my cousin again." I can't help but think of the cruelty that I suffered and how I thought nothing like that could ever really happen in real life either... but this was Melanie's story, not mine.

"Ana, I witnessed a horror like I had never seen before and, little did I know, like I would never see again. It was heartless and inhumane and cruel and when it was all over, someone was dead. I went home that night and broke into repeated vomiting. I was never the same at the end of that experience. Part of me died that night, and more of me died every day since that night until I got to this point. I've lived a well-rounded life, so to speak, but I was never able to live a full life... not after that night... not after that baby died."

"Oh my God!" I gasp. "You watched somebody do something cruel to a _baby!?"_ I ask in horror.

"No," she says, her voice small. "I watch someone do something cruel to the girl _carrying_ the baby."

Huh? Okay, now I'm confused. She said the _baby_ died...

"I watched my cousin and a group of her classmates and friends beat a girl so badly that she lost her baby. I watched as they taunted her and tortured her while she begged and pleaded for her life. I watched pure evil unfold before my eyes and I've had to live with it for all of these years. I've had to live with looking into the very face of Satan and not being able to say anything about it," she continues to confess.

"Why couldn't you say anything? Why did you carry this for so long?" I interrogate her.

"I told you... I thought I would be next. I was afraid, ashamed. It was the worst thing that I had ever seen. I often still see it when I close my eyes. It was horrible." Tears begin to fall from my eyes.

"Well... you said the baby died... Did the girl die?" I ask.

"No... she lived. She got away... barely."

"So you can't deal with the death of the baby?" I ask, still trying to get to the bottom of her confession.

"I can't deal with any of it!" she responds sharply. "They did things to her that you shouldn't do to human beings... under _any_ circumstances! This was horrifying and brutal and evil and I can't believe teenagers would do something like this!"

Teenagers. Teenagers? A baby died... but the girl lived. She didn't see it coming... she begged while they tortured her...

Teenagers.

Oh God. No.

"Wh... When did this happen?" I ask, as if I needed to. She blinks hard, and I already know.

"Over 10 years ago," she confirms.

"Wh... Where?" I say, my voice barely escaping my throat. She pauses before answering.

"Green Valley... Henderson, Nevada."

I feel all of the air leave my chest and I am gasping for air as I turn away from her and fall onto the sofa in my office. She said it. She said the words—the very thing that I was hoping I would not hear, she said it. Breathe Steele, breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. In through your nose, out through your mouth. I stand and turn around to face her, my heart and soul full of rage. My emotions must have registered on my face because she and her companion appear to shrink away in horror when I turn around.

"Who are you?" I say, my voice sharp and just above a growl.

"You know who I am, Ana. I'm Melanie Coleman."

"You know what I'm asking you!" I spit. She sighs.

"My maiden name wouldn't help you either. I didn't live in Green Valley. I didn't know most of the people at the bonfire that night. I knew what she was planning, but I didn't know who you were. I swear I didn't know they were going to do what they did. I didn't know... I had no idea that they would take it that far. I was relieved when the beating stopped. I thought that would be the end of it... but then they took out the brands..."

"STOP!" I yell. I don't need to hear this again. I was there. "Who is your cousin?" I ask and she doesn't respond. "Who is your fucking cousin, Melanie!?" I bark and she and her companion jump simultaneously.

"Carly Madison." Mo-ther-fucker! Carly Madison. Carly fucking Madison. I have been sitting here for months banging out the secrets of life with Carly fucking Madison's fucking cousin? This is yet another piece of the tragic comedy that is my life! I can't help but laugh. For a moment, I break into hysterical laughter. I've been sitting here chatting for months like it was afternoon tea with one of the people that was present at one of the most horrendous events of my life—and not just present. From what she tells me, she was front and center.

Wait a minute...

The laughter stops abruptly.

"You said you watched. Are you trying to tell me that you never took part in the beating? That you never touched me?" I ask incredulously.

"No... I didn't, I..." she swallowed hard. Don't get bashful now, Bitch. "I was the one... with the camera."

What!? What!? She _taped_ this shit? She taped this shit and kept it for 11 years then sent it to me like a YouTube video? Shit, is it on YouTube!?

"I know what you must be thinking, Ana." I turn around and glare at her.

"Really? _You _know what I must be thinking? Well, please Dr. Coleman, educate me. What am I thinking?" I say, my voice dripping with contempt.

"I think that you must be thinking that I must be some special kind of crazy to keep that video for over 10 years and send it to you now," she responds.

"Actually," I respond, not wanting her to know that she was right, "it was more along the lines of 'Who the fuck does she think she is disrupting my life this way by showing up as some lost soul looking for peace and trying to use me to help her set her crazy life right before she sheds this mortal coil after what she watched happen to me? I mean seriously, how callous can one human being be to seek out the person whose life she watched nearly be destroyed only to tell that same person that she was being used to make amends so that this sorry individual would have some hope of redemption when she came face to face with St. Peter?' Yeah, I would say _that_ would be more like what I was thinking!" I spit angrily. A feeble Melanie sinks back in her chair.

"I was the butt of your fucking joke, twice... _twice! _Once when you watched me begging and pleading for my life, and now - while you used me to make sense of your miserable life so that you could have some hope of dying in peace!"

Fuck anger management! Fuck dealing with things maturely! Fuck being a therapist and knowing that this is unhealthy behavior! I am pissed! I am genuinely, 100%, bona-fide, down to my very core, run the fuck up out of here and kill a motherfucker pissed the fuck off! I have been helping this bitch with her end-of-life therapy for months! I have been listening to her damn stories and helping her ass die with dignity, the whole time not knowing that this bitch was playing Polly fucking Polaroid while I was getting the life beaten out of me! Fuck of all ever-loving fucks, get this bitch away from me before I speed up her journey to the afterlife!

"Get! Out!" I scream at her.

"Ana, please. I'm so sorry..." Is she pleading with me? Is she actually pleading with me? Am I really hearing this?

"Are you out of your fucking mind!? What the fuck can 'sorry' do for me now? Take your 'sorry' and shove it up your sorry ass! At the end of your life, you want to come to me to be purged of the shit that you filmed 11 years ago? You've held this shit for 11 years. Just like you anonymously sent this shit to me last week, you could have anonymously sent this shit to the police! Oh, wait... that wouldn't have helped! He was too busy pushing that shit under the rug like you and your cousin and her fucking friends! Now get the fuck out of my office before I do something we will both regret!"

It is now that I realize that Marilyn and Chuck have both come into the office. Marilyn has her hand over her mouth and Chuck is looking at me with nothing in his eyes but pure shame, but I don't care. I don't fucking care any fucking more. As far as I'm concerned, she's one of those Green Valley fuckers that needs to be punished...even if all she did was hold the damn camera.

"Wipe those fucking judgmental looks off your faces! She's the one who shot the video of me being beaten and burned damn near to death!" Marilyn's expression changes to horror while Chuck's changes to anger.

"No..." Marilyn breathes.

"Yes!" I hiss. "Now get her the hell out of my office and never let her back in here again!" Chuck walks over to Melanie's companion's who just stands there looking at him.

"Ana, please..." she tries to plead once more, but the sound of her voice burns my ears, my heart, and my soul.

"NOW!" I screech! Chuck puts his hands on the chair, and Melanie's companion puts his hands on Chuck. With lightening speed, Chuck has this guy pinned against the wall by his neck with one hand.

"You don't want to do that!" Chuck says to the guy who looks like he's actually dangling in the air. "Now I'm going to release you, and you can move her, or I can move her. Either way, she's leaving this office in 10 seconds." He glares at Melanie's companion for a moment before releasing him. Almost instantaneously, her companion grabs the handles of Melanie's chair and hurriedly pushes her out of my office with Marilyn following closely behind them. I see Chuck turn to face me and I don't know if he says anything to me before I turn around, take off my stilettos, fold my arms, and stare out of the window across the Seattle skyline.

* * *

"_Today is the day. Today is the day that we send a message to everybody that doesn't know just how we take care of things in _our _town. Today is the day that we show that little, broke bitch that she can't fuck with me or my man and get away with it!" _

"_You tell her, Carly Babe!" An intimate kiss is shared between the Guy and the Girl. Several others are walking around the two of them, from behind the camera, in front of the camera, just everywhere... like teenagers do walking home from school on a sunny day. In the next few moments, a young plainly dressed brunette comes into the screen, her hair in a high ponytail and wearing a pink T-shirt and faded jeans. Off to the side, an assailant approaches. She is hit in the head with a club and she falls to the ground. Moments later, a silver Impala drives up to the curb and two of the boys throw her into the back seat. _

"_Now the real fun begins," the Girl says and gets into the passenger seat of a waiting Malibu. The camera operator jumps into the backseat of the Malibu and several other girls join them. The girls carry on a conversation about other girls at school, boys, whatever comes to mind while the camera is rolling. A few minutes into the video, the camera operator protests, "Carly, I really don't think we should be doing this. I mean, that guy knocked her out. She could be hurt." The Girl glares at the camera and says, "She's going to be a whole lot more hurt before this is over and if you keep it up, you're going to join her. Now shut the fuck up and do as I say... and turn off the fucking camera. You're wasting the battery."_

_The camera goes black._

_The camera comes back on and the Girl is front and center again. It's night-time now and she has donned all black clothing and a black cape. There are others posing behind and around her, taking pictures in their black garb and capes like it's Halloween. The Girl starts talking again. _

"_They say that the witching hour is that moment where dark spirits have the most power. Well, we're not dark spirits and it's not midnight, but this little whore is about to see just how powerful we really are." _

"_Don't fuck with what you don't understand," another girl says. "You just might get hurt." _

"_You mess with one, you mess with us all!" a third girl proclaims. _

"_And you definitely messed with the wrong one this time!" a final girl declares. _

"_Let's do this," the Girl says when the camera comes back around to her. She puts on her mask and pulls the hood over her head before walking towards the fire and ordering someone in the distance to "Bring her."_

_The camera now goes over to the trunk of the Impala. When it opens, there is the form of a young, brunette girl—bound, naked, and frightened. Although she isn't saying anything at first, she is crying. She is pulled from the car and dragged across the ground to where the rest of the crowd is standing near a bonfire. Seeing the gathering, her eyes fill anew with tears and she pleads. _

"_No, please! Please! What did I do? Please!"_

_No one is moved by her cries. The Girl walks over to her where she hangs from the arms of the two boys who dragged her across the cold ground in the cold night. _

"_Oh, poor baby!" the Girl says to the quivering brunette. "Are you scared, you lying BITCH?" the Girl says before delivering a slap to the brunette so hard that you could hear it echo into the night. "This is what we do to slutty little lying bitches like you!" In a moment, several people descend upon the brunette, including the Girl. The camera continues to roll while the small naked brunette is brutally kicked and beaten repeatedly. The crowd is so wild in their attack that if the victim did cry out, no one heard her. The assault continued for several minutes with only the sound of the female holding the camera occasionally saying, "Oh my God," or "this is horrible" or some other exclamation of disbelief or disgust. _

_When the assault is done, the Girl gestures to the camera girl to come and get a closer look. When she brings the camera in to survey the scene, her gasp is audible as she scans the damage of the once-pale-skinned brunette girl who is now lying face down on the ground, still bound, but bleeding and so badly bruised that one couldn't even tell it was the same girl. She is whimpering, twitching, and barely conscious. Then the Girl spits on her. Another girl follows suit and spits on her as well. This humiliation is not enough, so the Guy urinates on her. Most of the girls and guys follow behind them, spitting and urinating on the beaten and broken brunette lying face down in the dirt. While this is happening, the Girl decides to make another speech. _

"_The Bedouin have a ritual called Bisha'a," she says in the face of the brunette while she is being untied and held down in the dirt, again barely conscious. "I found it quite fascinating. It means trial by fire. It would require an accused liar to lick a hot, metal object three times to prove his innocence. If his tongue burned, he was deemed a liar." She stood up straight and backed away. "Let's see if the bitch burns." _

_While three guys held the brunette down, a fourth took a barbeque branding iron from the bonfire and pressed it firmly to her lower back for several seconds. She screamed in agony and squirmed viciously trying to get away, but only for a few moments. Smoke rose from her skin and the sound of searing flesh could now be heard over the silence of the crowd as many watched in horror while this young girl was branded. She wasn't moving or flailing or screaming when the iron was removed from her back. She lay there motionless... soundless... nearly lifeless..._

_The revelry that was taking place moments earlier had now been silenced as the violent horde of teenagers now examine their "masterpiece." No one moves at first, the guy holding the first branding iron standing there stunned. _

"_Finish!" the Girl barked, and the guy dropped the first iron and picked up another. After he plants it firmly in the brunette's back again, the crowd waits for a reaction. _

_Nothing. _

_She doesn't whimper. She doesn't cry. She doesn't move. _

_The three guys holding her down now rise up and back away from her. No other sound can be heard but the crackling of the fire. _

"_Dude, I think she's dead!" one of the guys declares, and the guy with the brand backs away as well. The Girl steps forward. _

"_She's not dead, she's still breathing. Move, you fucking pussy." She pushes him out of the way and grabs the third brand, pressing it firmly and viciously into the brunette's back while putting her foot on the brunette's bare backside to stabilize herself. _

_Still no movement... no begging or pleading for her life... nothing—just a bruised, battered, bloodied, and now burned slab of meat. A flash of fear moves across the Girl's face just before red and blue lights can be seen reflecting off of the faces of the attendees of this barbaric trial. _

"_Come on!" The Girl gestures to the camera girl to follow her and the sounds of several pounding feet and hasty breath of the escaping suspects can be heard. Very shortly thereafter, the camera girl and the Girl are in an unidentified moving car. "I want a copy of that," the Girl says out of breath from off camera somewhere. "Is it still rolling?"_

"_Yes," the camera girl is heard saying, her voice thick with tears. _

"_Turn it off," the Girl commands. The camera goes black. _

_Show's over._

* * *

_**A/N: Now you know exactly what happened to Ana. Any clues about what's going to happen next? I'm only too certain that you are going to be surprised, but I would LOVE to hear your theories. **_

_**Shoot me over an email at divinebronzegoddess at gmail . com (no spaces of course and use the "at" sign) to join my mailing list and stay up to date on blogs, publishing of my stories, etc.**_

_**Feel free to review—it is greatly appreciated.**_

_**Love and Handcuffs!  
Lynn x**_


	7. Still In Hell

_**Got trolls on Paging Dr. Steele... I thought they were dead... oh, well...**_

_**I'm on the move again, so if you had questions in your reviews from the last chapter, I'm sorry I haven't gotten a chance to read them yet. I will address them next week. Also, this chapter is unedited. So if you see mistakes, forgive me and shoot me a PM to tell me where they are. I wanted to get it posted before it got to be too late. **_

_**All previous disclaimers apply-as well as one little reminder to please just stay away from my stories if you do like it or it doesn't fit your interpretation of Ana and Christian. Spare us both the headache and spare yourself the zinging, because it will come forth if you don't leave me alone... K? **_

**Chapter 7—Still In Hell**

_**GREY**_

"Anastasia! No!"

Oh my God! Please tell me she didn't. Please tell me that I'm not seeing what I think I'm seeing...

I was in a meeting this afternoon when the call came through that something was wrong with Butterfly. I was trying to get out of the meeting, but I was finally locking down the deal with Feldon, River Rouge, and Russia and I couldn't possibly leave at that crucial moment. I knew that Butterfly would understand, but I had no idea what was really happening. I had Jason keep tabs with Davenport to see what was going on.

Jason texted me that Butterfly had locked herself inside her office and wouldn't let anyone in. They were aware than she wasn't hurting herself or anything—not that I expected that anyway—but I have discovered that my Butterfly is much like me in that she has cameras installed inside her office. However, hers are there for an entirely different reason. She deals with people with mental and emotional issues and problems. Although the cameras have no sound to protect the privacy of the patients, they are also there to protect Butterfly in case one of her patients has a moment of uncontrollable instability. Marilyn watches the cameras while Butterfly is in session to assure her safety. So when she locked the door, Marilyn could see that she was just sitting at her desk, even though she couldn't see what Butterfly was doing.

Marilyn and Davenport were relaying details to Jason who, in turn, relayed them to me about what was going on with Butterfly while she was in the office. According to them, she sat there for hours just looking at the computer. Davenport informed us that Butterfly had unknowingly been treating one of her attackers for the last several months. Well, maybe not one of her attackers, but the woman confessed to being the person who shot the video as well as the person who sent the video to Butterfly last week. At Butterfly's screaming request, Davenport put her out after having to assault her companion to get them to leave. Once he returned, he discovered that she had locked herself in the office. Marilyn had a key but was remiss to use it since Butterfly is her boss.

By the time I seal the deals and get away from the meeting with the steel companies, at least three hours have past and it is very late afternoon. When I get to Butterfly's office and she still hasn't emerged from the seat at her desk in front of the computer, I request the key from Marilyn. When I open the door, she is sitting at her computer and I am horrified by what I see.

She's not crying. She's not talking. She's not blinking. She's not moving. She's not doing anything. The only thing that moves on her is her index finger. It clicks the left button of the mouse strategically positioned over a button on the screen labeled "replay." She has been sitting here for approximately four hours...watching that fucking video! How many times did she watch it? Why didn't Jason or Barney or somebody's delete that shit from her email? Fuck!

She is completely catatonic right now. There is no way to read what she's feeling or thinking or anything.

"Anastasia, turn it off, please." She doesn't move. I can't stand watching this video. I've only gotten to the part where they pull her out of the trunk and then I can't watch it anymore; but she has watched it repeatedly—for hours—and now, she won't speak.

"Anastasia, Baby, please..." I try to get through to her again, but it's like she doesn't hear me. Her eyes are fixated on the screen and if I didn't see her sitting here, I would think that she wasn't even alive. She's scaring me now. What's going on?

"Baby, talk to me." She still doesn't move. I motion to Davenport and he nods, pulling the plug from the computer. The screen goes black. Butterfly turns to look at me.

There is nothing there.

Her eyes are completely empty—a deep, beautiful ocean blue that I have become accustomed to, but there is absolutely nothing in them. No anger, no pain, no questions...

No love...

It's like I don't know her and she doesn't know me. I put my hands on either side of her face.

"Butterfly... are you okay?"I question, and I can hear the crack in my own voice. She still says nothing. Oh my God... where is my Butterfly?

"Baby, please... say something. I need you to say something to me. I need to know that you're okay." She doesn't flinch. She doesn't even blink.

"Boss... I think she's in shock," Jason says, softly. "We need to get her out of here." I look up at him and nod.

"Okay." I look back at Butterfly. "Baby, we're going to take you home, okay?" I reach down and take her hand wondering if I will have to carry her to the SUV. Instead, she stands in her stocking feet still looking at me and waiting.

Her stocking feet... She took off her shoes! Oh, shit! Oh shit oh shit oh shit!

"I've got you, Baby," I say in a soft, soothing voice pulling her to me. I wrap my arm around her waist and lead her to the elevator. She cooperates with me and walks without resisting, stopping when I stop her, and looking straight ahead. When the elevator comes, I lead her into the elevator and we ride in silence. When we get to the ground floor, we realize that we have yet another problem.

The paparazzi is here.

Fuck! What do they want?

"What the fuck?" I look over at Jason.

"Sir, don't you know?" Know what? I shake my head. "Sullivan was arrested today. Whitmore is under investigation on corruption charges, and the news is out that most of this was triggered by what happened to Her Highness." I sigh heavily. This couldn't have happened at a worse time. I shake my head in dismay. Still no response from Butterfly.

"Is there another way out of here?" I ask Marilyn.

"The service entrance in the back," she responds.

"Where is your car parked?" I ask her.

"Coincidentally, I park in the back." I nod.

"I will take Butterfly out the back to Marilyn's car and get her back to Escala. Marilyn, will you please drive her car back to my apartment?" She nods. "Jason, you and Davenport will have to create a distraction for me. You go out the front and bring all of the Audis to the curb and wait for me, including Butterfly's. Just stand out there looking official. When she and I are well on our way to Escala, Marilyn will come out, get in Butterfly's car, and drive it back to the apartment. Have Williams and Lawrence waiting at the service elevator at Escala when I get there."

"Yes Sir," Jason says, and he and Davenport go about the business of creating a distraction. I nod to Marilyn and she takes me and Butterfly out the service entrance to her car. I forget that Butterfly wasn't wearing any shoes and now her nylons will be ruined. I can't be concerned about that right now, though. I sit her in the passenger seat of the Marilyn's gold Toyota Camry and attach her seat belt. I turn her face to me and kiss her gently, hoping for some sort of response.

Nothing.

My heart is breaking every second that I see her like this. I don't know how much of this I can take, I really don't, but right now, she needs me and I'm going to take care of her.

"Say nothing to the press. Just walk out to the car normally. Get in the car and stay between the SUV's." I instruct Marilyn.

"Okay," she nods before taking the keys to Butterfly's Audi and giving me the keys to her Camry. I bought Butterfly the Audi S7 in Estoril Blue after she refused to drive her Chrysler 300 anymore. She paid off her lease and took the 300 back to the dealership once she saw the Audi. I remember that she was beside herself with glee over the car and she has driven it every day since. I'm sure she won't mind Marilyn driving it back to the apartment to make sure that it gets there safely.

I get into the driver's seat and start the car. Once I exit the parking lot, I look behind me to see if we are being followed. No one. Good. We gave them the slip.

"We got away from them, Butterfly. I'm sure that more of them will be waiting at Escala, but you know how this goes. There won't be many of them since they think we're at your office." I decided to have Jason, Davenport, and Marilyn wait to leave Butterfly's office until we are safely inside Escala and I text Jason as much. Sure enough, there are paparazzi at Escala—more than I expected, but still not many. They are not expecting to see a Camry with Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele inside, so they pay the car absolutely no attention as it pulls into the Escala parking garage.

Perfect! Now to get her upstairs.

Lawrence and Williams are waiting in the garage at the freight elevator as expected. I get out of the car and walk over to the passenger side, release Butterfly's seatbelt, and lift her in my arms. Even as dead weight, she is light as a feather. Lawrence gets into the driver's seat of the Camry to take it to a visitor's parking space so as not to arouse suspicion while Williams accompanies Butterfly and me to the service elevator. Again, we ride in silence up to the penthouse and I carry Butterfly pass a stunned Gail Taylor into our bedroom and sit her on the bed.

"Notify Jason that we have made it home," I instruct Williams. He nods and heads to the security office. I turn back to Butterfly. The last time I got the silent treatment from her, it was murder, but this is different.

"I'm going to take care of you, Butterfly. I'm here, Baby." She turns her head to look at me. It's the only acknowledgement that I get. She's not completely gone, but she's not here.

I get her undressed and put her to bed. She lies there looking at the ceiling. If I didn't see her chest moving up and down, I wouldn't think she was alive. Again, I leave the door open so that I can hear her and walk slowly into the great room.

What do I do?

I look up into Jason's questioning face.

"She was watching that video for hours. She watched it over and over again. I couldn't watch it after they took her out of the trunk and she watched it for hours," I say to him in disbelief.

"Boss," he says hesitantly, "how is she now?"

"She's the same. She hasn't said a word. I don't even think she blinked. Shit! I better take her to the bathroom!" I rush back to the room and pull the duvet back, gently helping Butterfly sit up.

"Come on, Baby." She willing moves to my gentle coaxing and I lead her to the bathroom. I pull down her underwear and she immediately begins to urinate. This is more than I can take, I think. I am like a fish out of water. I don't know what to do for her. I wait for a moment to be sure that she is finished. Then I clean her and take her back to bed. I lay her down and she stares blankly in front of her again. I gently stroke her face.

"I'll take care of you, Butterfly. Whatever you need, I'll be there for you. If you can hear me, please come back to me."

I kiss her forehead and leave the room.

"Christian," Jason's voice stops me from running right into him as I am walking with my head down. "Maybe you should take her to the hospital." I throw a look at him that could have sliced through his body. "Okay, well at least call Dr. Grey. Someone needs to check her out. You know that I'm right." I stare at him for a moment longer and nod for him to call my mother. I sit at the breakfast bar for a moment, my elbows on the counter and my hands buried in my hair.

"Can I get you anything, Christian? Some water or something stronger, maybe?" Gail's kind voice asks. I shake my head. I do need something stronger, but it's not in the kitchen. Also, it wouldn't do me any good to get wasted right now... not when Butterfly needs me. One drink won't hurt though.

I go into my study and pour myself a double shot of bourbon and throw it back quickly. Replacing the bottle and the glass on the shelf, I sit down at my desk and open my email. I click on the video that Butterfly watched repeatedly this afternoon. I couldn't even watch it once and Butterfly watched it repeatedly. I take a deep breath, click the "play" icon, and grasp my armrests tightly.

It was worse than I had imagined.

The fear on her face...  
Listening to her pleading for her life and calling out for her mother...  
Seeing her be bludgeoned and then violated so horribly...  
Hearing her scream and watching her skin actually ignite momentarily as the first burn was administered...  
Watching this heartless bitch holding my Butterfly down with her foot while she ruthlessly burned the third letter into her back...

I'm shaking violently by the time Jason comes into the room. "Christian!" I hear him say, and he closes the study door behind him. As if he could read it in my face, he grabs the trash can and shoves it in my face before the bourbon, my lunch, and the very lining of my stomach are all launched from my body.

"Did you see it?" I cough through my tears. "Have you seen it?" He sighs heavily.

"Yes, sir... I have," he says mournfully.

"H... how? How could someone... do this...?" I'm barely able to get my words out. I'm still grasping onto the armrests as the computer screen goes black. "Jason... h... how?" Jason puts the trash can on the floor and goes to the door. He calmly calls for Gail and when she steps inside, her horrified look tells me that I look as badly as I feel. I want someone to erase from my mind the vision of my Butterfly being pissed and spit upon, kicked and punched while she was bound and unable to escape. I want to forever forget her cries for mercy... but they are there now. They will forever be etched in my memory and my soul hurts for her. I want to go and hold her and keep her close to me every second of every minute of every hour of every single day for the rest of our lives. I want to keep everything and everyone that could ever hurt her away from her so that she will never know pain again. Most of all, I want every last person in this video to die a long, slow, painful death and as heartless and cruel as it might sound, I take the slightest and tiniest shred of comfort in the fact that the person that shot this video is doing just that!

My breathing starts to come back to normal as Gail wipes my face with a cold washcloth. She puts a glass of water to my mouth and instructs me to take a mouthful and rinse. I follow directions, swishing the water around in my mouth to capture the flavor of bile left in my cheeks from my regurgitation and spit the vile fluid into the trash can. My grip on the armrests release a bit as she tells me to repeat the process, after which she sprinkles a bit of table salt on my tongue and I am finally rid of the awful taste. I taste several swallows of the water to replace the fluids I had lost and notice that my shirt has been damaged in the process as well.

"Sir, your mother is here," Jason finally informs me once he knows that I can hear him. I nod and take in a deep breath, removing my shirt and throwing it into the trash can as well. I go to greet my mother in a T-shirt and dress pants with sweaty hair and swollen, red, puffy eyes.

"Christian," she gasps when she sees me, immediately putting her hands on either side of my face. "Wants wrong, Son?" Her voice is strained and tortured and I lean into her hand, taking comfort in her touch. I take a deep breath and look at her.

"It's Ana. I think she's in shock or something, Mom. She's catatonic and I don't know what to do for her." My mother's face blanches.

"What happened?" she asks.

"She saw something very shocking and upsetting. Please, Mom, come and see for yourself." I lead my reluctant mother to the bedroom where Anastasia is still staring at the ceiling. My mother goes over the bed.

"Anastasia, can you hear me, Darling?" I can't see what Ana does but she apparently does something that makes my mother say, "yes you can. I'm going to examine you, okay, Dear?" She looks over at me telling me that I need to leave the room. That's the last thing that I want to do, but I want Butterfly to come back to me, so I comply. I pace impatiently outside the door while Mom checks her out.

"What is it, Mom?" I ask when she comes out of the bedroom.

"She's fine, Christian... physically anyway, but she's stunned." Stunned? I've never heard of that before. Reading my thoughts, my mother continues. "She's... sort of in shock... but not quite there yet because she's still very coherent. She's just..." Mom struggles to find the correct explanation. "Whatever she saw has her displaced. I'm not a psychiatrist, so I can't really explain this, but you may want to take her to the hospital."

"I can't take her to the hospital, Mom. Didn't you see the paparazzi outside? They'll have a field day with this—they might even traumatize her even more!" I protest.

"Christian, what is going on? Why are you two being hounded by the paparazzi again and why is Anastasia in that room in a state of shock?" Grace Grey has lost her patience. I sigh and take her to my study. I quickly close the video that sent me into a vomiting frenzy and do a Google search for Green Valley and George Sullivan. If Jason knows about it, then it's on Google by now. Sure enough the news report of Sullivan's perp walk is the first thing that pops up in the search.

"Sir?" Jason is trying to get my attention. I stand and offer my mother the seat.

"This will explain it, Mom," I tell her pointing at the news report and video exposing Sullivan and Whitmore. I follow Jason out of the door to see a very irritated Elva McIntyre standing in the great room.

"It looks like someone forgot to tell me something," my head of Public Relations says, her arms folding. Shit! I did forget to tell her. I look at Jason.

"I called her, Sir," he admits. "There is way too much publicity and speculation. We won't be able to do anything without it being some kind of Mission Impossible convert operation... and with Her Highness like this..." He trails off.

"Her Highness like _what?" _McIntyre barks. Oh, this is just getting better by the minute. "God damn it, Christian, if you don't tell me about these things in advance, I have no way of heading them off and if you don't let me in the loop, I have no way of handling them. Now what the hell is going on?" She is quickly losing her patience and I have already lost mine. I run my hands roughly through my hair and actually see a few strands in my hand when I pull them out. McIntyre and Jason quietly look at me and await instructions.

"I am not. Going to keep. Repeating this nightmare. You... sit!" I bark at McIntyre who quickly and quietly makes her way to the sofa. I turn to Jason. My voice is almost at a growl. "You are here, so I assume that Marilyn is either here or has returned to her home."

"She's here, Sir," he says in his official voice.

"Bring her into the great room from wherever she is hiding." I sigh heavily and pull out my blackberry. I go to my contacts and type in the name I have assigned to the group and type in six words:

_****Contingency. Escala. ASAP. Respond to confirm. ****_

McIntyre has put the word out that there will be a statement from the Grey camp by morning and that members of the press that do not leave Escala property will not be privy to it. The press fled like roaches.

Once again, the large sofa in the great room is full of our friends. I have even put in a call to Amanda since she is here in Seattle and to Ray since this is going to be something that is going to reach in many directions. We are waiting for Ray to arrive when I address the group in the great room, my mother and McIntyre included.

"I wanted to wait for Ray, but someone will fill him in when he gets here..." I begin.

"I'll take care of it," Allen volunteers.

"Thank you, Al." I breathe in a heavy sigh. "Many of you know and some of you are learning for the first time this moment that Anastasia was the victim of a vicious and brutal attack when she was 15. The attack was prompted by Ana's confession that she had been raped by a boy in her school in Green Valley. She was in a coma for three weeks and... she lost the baby that she didn't know that she was carrying at the time. No one has every been prosecuted for it." There are gasps in the room from those who didn't know with more to come since very few know the whole story. "When Ana was kidnapped, she had run off to be alone because I had started an investigation into her attack without her knowledge. Once the kidnapping ordeal was over, we shared our information. It turns out that the cop that was first on the scene buried the evidence because he suspected that his brother may have been involved in the attack. Anastasia and I have been working together to identify as many people as possible in an attempt to bring them to justice."

"Why now?" Phillip asks, almost accusing. "Why not before now?"

"I don't know," I tell him. "I can only say that I think she was afraid. I mean, she was in a community with a bunch of rich kids and when she tried to out one of them, this is what happened to her."

"Yes, but that doesn't explain why she would change her mind and want to do something _now!" _Garrett still presses for answers. I know what they're thinking, so I'm going to step up.

"It's probably because of me," I confirm. "We want to move on with our lives, and there are chapters in our lives that must be closed before we can. Ana has some bru..." Just as I am about to say the words, water and bile threaten to make a reappearance. I can feel the tears burning the back of my eyes as I see the branding iron pressed on her back and the momentary flames leap from her flesh. Her cries echo in my ears and my knees go out from under me. I am panting for breath again and I am relieved that these are our friends watching this breakdown and not a boardroom full of suits. Several people rush to my aid but I assure them that I am okay, rising back to my feet and taking a few deep breaths.

"Ana has some bruising on her back which has now been camouflaged by a tattoo."

"Ana has a tattoo?" Valerie asks and Al nods. I continue the tale.

"The bruises are... brands..."

"Brands!?" My mother blurts out. "Like... _cattle _brands!?"

"Exactly like cattle brands, Mom. I don't know if any of you can understand that when I saw that and she told me what they were, I was obsessed with getting to the bottom of this. I went to Green Valley and I talked to a few people—the cop was one of them. There is absolutely no remorse. They are a bunch of snobby, cruel, entitled motherfuckers and none of them cares what happened to that girl that was damn near beaten to death, branded in the dirt on a horse ranch, and left dead with her unborn baby already dead inside of her!" I was growling the words by now and Jason put his hand on my shoulder.

"So what happened today and what's going on now? Why isn't Jewel speaking?"

"Three things happened today. First—breaking news. The cop that buried the evidence was arrested today and the father of one of the keys players—and the man who paid off the Mortons to keep quiet—has been exposed and is under investigation for all kinds of fraud."

"No doubt Jewel has seen this."

"No doubt," I confirmed Allen's suspicions. "Second—a horrible confession. Most of you know about the video that showed up last week of the attack..."

"Someone _recorded_ it?" My mother gasps again in horror.

"I told you, Mom. They don't care." A tear falls from my mother's eye and Valerie quickly comforts her. "Nonetheless, the video was filmed by a woman named Melanie Coleman. She is 27 years old and currently dying from cancer. She's stage IV, I believe—and Ana has been treating her for months for Dignity Therapy."

"Get the fuck outta here!" Garrett exclaims, anger heavy in his voice.

"Yes. She found out today that Coleman was operating the camera. That's not the worst of it," I say.

"What could be worse than that?" Phillip asks.

"Third... Showtime." I pause, but it only takes a moment for Maxine to figure out what I meant.

"No!" she exclaims in a harsh whisper and I nod.

"What?" Valerie asks.

"She watched the video," Maxine says solemnly.

"What?" Valerie's question is more in disbelief now. "Why?"

"I don't know. I don't know what could have possibly made her want to see that thing, but she did... repeatedly."

"Oh my God!" Maxine jumps from her seat and dashes to the bedroom where Ana is laying down. I am right behind her. Ana is still on her back, but now her eyes are closed and her breathing is rhythmic. She's asleep. Maxine examines her closely.

"What are you looking for?" I ask.

"Signs of REM sleep," she responds quietly before leading me out of the room. "Right now, her brain is not processing things like it normally would. Instead, she's shut down. It's a defense mechanism. You have to be prepared for her to have a complete breakdown when she comes out of this. I know that I'm not telling you anything your mother hasn't already told you, but she needs to go to the hospital." I begin to protest, but she holds up her hand. "If you are not going to take her to the hospital, then she needs to get as much sleep as possible—not rest, _sleep._ That means that you can't be in there groping her, stroking her, breathing in her face, and brushing her hair away so that you can look longingly at her." Damn! Has this woman spent time in my bedroom? Exactly how much does Butterfly tell her in those damn sessions!? "If she hasn't snapped out of this in four days, you need to take her to the hospital."

"She's not going to the hospital. I can take care of her." I say, my voice forceful.

"Christian, I appreciate that you love Ana so much and I know that you can squash me like a bug, but know this. I saw that girl when she came back to Washington. I saw first hand what condition she was in. I watched her fight her demons even though at the time, I didn't know what they were. I watched her rise up from hell even though that fucker Edward David tried to drag her back down there again. I know how powerful you are, but I will fight you and 14 other people more powerful than you all the way up to the President when it comes down to her well-being. I am her doctor. I am her therapist, and I will pull rank on you and get an emergency court order to take her to the hospital in four days."

She is looking at me unblinking and I don't know whether to get a background check on her and prepare for battle or admire her for the way she will put it all on the line for my Butterfly. "I don't want to make an enemy out of you Christian, but I will go toe-to-toe with you all the way to the wall no gloves when it comes down to the woman in that bed." She is still not blinking and neither am I, but I have chosen to admire her... for now. I just haven't told her that yet. "We both want what's best for her. I know that those Batmobiles that move you around the city draw a lot of attention. We can arrange for a private ambulance service to meet you at the service elevator to transport her if it becomes necessary. It will be much easier to do this with your cooperation, but I don't need it if you won't give it to me," she says firmly.

When she gets no argument—and no concession—from me, she turns around and marches into the great room. Grabbing her coat, she leans down and whispers something in Garrett's ear, then throws a look at Phillip that has him leaping from his seat like a grasshopper. It's not until she has marched out of the door with Phillip in tow that I realize Ray has arrived. It appears that Allen and Amanda were filling him in on Butterfly's condition when Monsoon Maxine came breezing through.

"What was that all about?" Allen asks.

"We had a slight difference of opinion," I respond.

"A difference of opinion that had her running out here without saying anything to any of us?" Valerie accuses.

"It would appear so," I say. She looks at Garrett.

"What did she say to you?" she asks him.

"'Keep me posted,'" he says, his gaze never leaving me.

"Why would she say something like that?" Valerie asks, her tone still accusing.

"Why don't you ask Maxine?" I say, defensively. What the hell is this?

"Oh, we intend to." Garrett's tone is confrontational and absolutely seals the fact that these fuckers have all come to interrogate me to see what I've done to "Little Ana."

"What the fuck is this?" I say, my voice a cross of anger and horror—a sound that doesn't get past Allen and clearly bemuses everyone else. Ray and Amanda remain mute—puzzled, but mute.

"Christian, that's not necessary!" my mother scolds.

"Oh, but it is, Mom. I want to know what they're getting at. I want to know what they think I could have possibly done—what in this great wide world I could have possibly done—to put Ana in this state!" I say, my hands gesturing wildly towards the bedroom where Ana lie resting. Let's put this all out on the floor. Let's not run around this shit anymore. What the fuck are you fuckers really thinking?

"Christian, you might just be jumping to conclusions here. Nobody's accused you of anything, Son." Ray quickly tries to diffuse the situation, but he hasn't been here since the others got here.

"No? I'm sorry to dispute you, Ray, but you're a little late to the persecution." I turn my attention to the others. "Ever since you hit the door, you all have been looking at me like I've done something wrong. When Garrett and Phillip started questioning me, they were waiting for me to 'fess up' that I had done something to cause this!" I look at Garrett and he couldn't deny it, neither could any of the others because that's exactly what they felt when they came into my home. "I left my office and walked into this just like the rest of you. Yet, somehow or another, I became the bad guy before any of you even had any idea of what was happening. Now, you all are looking at me accusingly once more because Maxine goes marching out of here without telling anybody why, like I've done something _again_!"

Silence falls over the room before Allen decides that he should be the spokesperson for the group.

"Chris, it's just that this is all new to us. None of us knew that Jewel was suffering like this and we're just trying to get some answers. Yes, you are going to get some questions that may seem a little harsh because everybody is just trying to find out what's going on. You're new to our group and we appreciate that you love Jewel so much, but if we come at you in that way it's only because in some ways you are still an unknown and we tend to approach with caution. You just have to give us the benefit of the doubt, we're really trying here."

"Everybody keeps telling me that!" I bark. "Everybody keeps telling me that I need to give people the benefit of the doubt in what they feel about me. How about how I feel? When do my feelings become paramount? Does the fact that I have a lot of money mean that I don't _feel_ just like everyone else? Why do people treat me like I don't have a problem or a care in the world? Do you want to know how I feel? How I really feel? I just carried the love of my life up the service elevator to our bedroom, undressed her, sat her on the toilet so that she could piss and put her to bed. I sat there crying, begging for her to come back to me. When she wakes up, I'm probably going to have to feed her. Because I wanted to be able to empathize with her in some way, I watched that fucking video... once! I watched it once—and ceremoniously vomited everything I had eaten the entire day. Then I sat there crying again. Even after all of that—calling my mother, calling Ray and Amanda, trying to hold off the fucking press so Ana can have a little dignity—I had the wherewithal to activate your fucking contingency!

"You want to know why Maxine went storming out of here? She told me that Ana needs to go to the hospital, just like my mother did. My mother told me to wait for a few days and if she doesn't get better, take her to the hospital. Maxine walks in and says 'take her to the hospital.' I tell Maxine that I can take care of her and that she doesn't need to go to the hospital and Maxine starts threatening me with court orders! And when I say threaten, I mean _threaten! _Her exact word to me involved making an enemy out of me, going toe-to-toe with me 'all the way to the wall no gloves,' and the only thing that I said to that woman was 'she doesn't need a hospital, I will take care of her.' You tell me where the 'benefit of the doubt' comes in there!

"For five months, I have done nothing but love this woman. I have never hurt or mistreated her. She is my whole world and I have made changes for her that I have never made for anyone... _ever!_ Now you all come in here—after I called _you_—ready to try and convict me and you have the nerve to tell me to give you the benefit of the doubt? What do you people want, a fucking blood oath? How long to I have to love her before I am _acceptable _in your eyes? At what point do my actions and my intentions stop falling under suspicion with you?"

They have all fallen silent again. I think I read guilt on their faces but I'm not sure. It could be conviction for all I fucking know, and these damn emotions that Dr. Baker is working so hard to get me to control are bubbling up inside me—and I don't have my Butterfly to help me control them.

"Garrett, be my guest. Tell Maxine every fucking thing I do! Make sure that she knows my every move so that she can feel like shit when she sees that all I want to do is love and care for her friend and patient. While you're at it, you let her know this. Let her know that she's going to _need_ an injunction to get Ana out of here, because before I allow Ana to wake up in a small white room with no windows wondering why we stuck her on the psych ward, they're going to have to hogtie me and throw me in jail! The only reason why I'm not putting your judgmental asses out of my apartment right now is because Ana wouldn't like it if I did. So by all means, feel free to use my home to conspire against me, jump to conclusions, and come up with other reasons why this shit is all my fault! Mom, Ray, Amanda—my apologies!" I storm out of the room and go to my study, slamming the door behind me. I am furious and at the same time anxious as I hope the slamming door did not wake Butterfly.

I feel like I'm hyperventilating. I'm trying to breathe but no air is coming in. I'm trying to push the picture of the frightened little boy standing in the closet back into the recesses of my mind like Dr. Baker has been teaching me.

"She's not well. She hasn't left me, she's just sick right now. She'll be fine." I repeat this mantra several times until my breathing becomes normal again. Then the tears fall. My Butterfly is sick. She is hiding somewhere in the recesses of her mind, probably where the sickest thoughts go to hide, and her closest friends think I had something to do with it. No wonder Butterfly is so damn angry... who can hold on to this kind of shit and _not _be angry? And why do her friends think I would hurt her?

Am I really that bad a guy?

I've gotten past swiping all of the stuff off of my desk—I think—but I do make a little space to lay down my head... and the tears are still falling. I hear the door of my study open and I know it can only be Jason.

"Is she still asleep?" I say, trying and failing to keep my voice from shaking.

"Yes, Boss. She hasn't stirred," he responds, sympathy evident in his tone.

"Good," I continue. "Please, leave me." It's all that I can say. I hear the door close and I let the tears fall some more. My Butterfly is gone. Where, I don't know, but it's nothing either of us did this time. I know that she needs to come back but I don't know how to help her. I don't know how to bring her back. I felt exactly this way when that fucker had kidnapped her I didn't know where she was or how to get her safely back home. It's that exact same feeling of hopelessness, of being out of control and only being able to wait until something happens. I hate this feeling. The door opens again.

"I told you to leave me, Jason," I scold, my voice heavy with the tears that are now invading my face.

"It's not Jason." I look up into the kind and empathetic face of my mother. Before I know it, I sink into her stomach and weep as she cradles my head against her.

I feel like my head is going to explode. Now, I'm the villain and I don't even know how that happened. I left the meeting with the steel heads to find my beloved Butterfly in a state of shock, and somehow I'm the villain. Her shock isn't even because of something that I did, but still somehow I'm the villain. My mother has left after I have convinced her that I am okay and I am camped in the armchair that I have pulled next to my bed to watch Butterfly sleeping. The sun has gone down now, and I'm still trying to figure out how I became the villain.

"Christian?" I rub my eyes and turn around to see Ray standing in the doorway. After I locked myself in my study, and cried off my frustration, I came straight to the bedroom without even looking at who may or may not have remained in the great room. This meant that I forgot about Ray. I drag my butt from the chair where I was sitting and walk out of the room so as not to disturb Butterfly.

I haven't yet discovered where Ray stands in all of this. Does he see me as the villain, too? These are the situations that I try to avoid. All of my life, I have tried to avoid situations where I was the weakest link. Now, I find myself in a face-off with against Butterfly's closest friends and maybe even her family—but if they think I'll back down and go away quietly, they've got another think coming!

"Allen told me what's going on... but I need to hear it from you. What's going on with my Annie?" I look in the great room and Allen is still here with Mandy. I storm into the great room ready to do battle with the this man if I must.

"What did you tell him?" I say to Allen as calmly as my emotions would allow. He's looking at me strangely. I've only seen that look in his eye one other time.

… When Butterfly was kidnapped.

"I told him exactly what you told me, Chris," Allen says, impassively. It's only now that I see James slowly rise from the sofa on the other side of the room. I can't take much more of this. I want my Butterfly. I don't know what's wrong with her and it's scaring the shit out me. I go to rub my eyes again and my knees give way from under me. Someone's hands guide my body to the sofa so that I don't hit the floor.

I'm not a weak person. I'm a strong man. I always have been a strong man—but Butterfly has weaved herself into my heart and soul and broken down my defenses. If she's not whole, I'm not whole.

"What has this woman done to me?" I say it aloud without knowing that I did. "I can't think!"

"Christian..." I don't know whose voice this is, but I can hear the concern laced in my name. I sit up straight and run my hands through my hair.

"Ray, do you know the whole story of Ana's attack?" I ask, steadying my voice and steeling my nerves.

"I do now," he replies, his voice full of hatred.

"You know about the rape, and the beating, and the baby..." I kept going without pausing.

"Y... Yes, I know," Ray, too, is now steeling himself.

"Do you know about the video?" There is silence from Ray. I look over at him. "Do you know about the video, Ray?"

"Yes," he says, his voice soft and menacing. "I was hoping that it wasn't true, that there was some sort of mistake—but yes, I know about the damn video!" he spit.

"If you need to hear it from me, then here it is. Ana has been treating the bitch that shot that video for dignity therapy for the last four months. I think she sought Ana out for some sort of absolution before she died. She sent that video to Ana anonymously last week, and Ana had a breakdown when she saw what it was. I was under the impression that she was unable to watch the entire video before she destroyed the monitor in her office and I had my IT guy bring her a new one. However, today she discovered that she had unknowingly been assisting one of the people directly involved in her attack to make peace with her actions. I think she just snapped, locked herself in her office and proceeded to watch the video several times. Her assistant has keys to the office but did not disturb her because Ana's office is fitted with cameras just in case one of her patients become unstable. Marilyn could see that Ana was sitting calmly at her desk and felt that there was no need for alarm—until I got there. I found Ana in a zombie-like condition. I carried her home, put her to bed, and contacted all of the people who now think I'm responsible for it!" I spit.

"Christian, they don't think you're responsible," Allen protests.

"They don't?" I spit, angrily. "They could have fooled me! They sat here interrogating me like the Spanish Inquisition! The hatred and mistrust that they were throwing at me was tangible! Even Valerie—and she's fucking my brother! She spent four days at my childhood home for Thanksgiving and she really thinks I would do something to hurt Anastasia?"

"They were hurt, Christian. They just wanted answers. It was right, but that's what it was." I just glare at him. Fuck them! Fuck what they wanted. They sat in my home after I called them insinuating and silent accusing me of hurting the woman that I love. I don't give a fuck what they wanted. My feelings of hopelessness and helplessness are quickly being replaced with anger.

"What about you, Allen?" I ask sharply, not even acknowledging that James is stepping protectively closer to him. "You keep saying 'them' but what about you?" He frowns.

"I never doubted you, Christian. Did I ever give you any reason to think that I doubted you?" He says defensively as James put his hand on Allen's shoulder.

"I don't feel any remorse for asking," I say plainly. "I stood in my own home being accused of..." I won't say it again. I fucking won't say it again. "I don't feel any remorse for asking." I reinforce. Allen says nothing. I turn to Ray.

"I don't know what your plans are, but you are welcome to stay here," I tell him.

"I'm staying with Mandy for the night, but I'll be back tomorrow and then I'll stay with you until Annie gets better if that's okay." I nod and walk over to the breakfast bar. I don't want to sit in the great room right now... or my study...

"Christian, dinner is ready. Would you like something to eat?" Gail says cautiously. Of course, I wouldn't! How could I possibly eat at a time like this? Then I think of Butterfly at the hospital making me promise to never starve myself again after the Elliot fiasco. Of course, my mother's lecture comes to mind next and I am certain that she will burst through the doors at any moment and demand that I sit down and eat every morsel that Gail has prepared.

"Not at this moment, Gail, but will you please prepare two plates? When Ana wakes up, we'll eat together. I'll most likely have to feed her. She's been cooperative with what needs to be done. She just won't do it herself." Gail nods sadly and places a bottle of water in front of me with no question, then turns to prepare the plates as requested.

"We're going to go now, Christian. I'll see you in the morning," Ray says with his hand on my shoulder. I acknowledge him with a nod. He squeezes my shoulder and then they leave. I turn around to see that Allen and James have left as well.

"Boss," I turn my head slightly to see Jason standing there. "Ms. McIntyre has prepared a statement that she says she will email to you to be released in the morning. Your mother will check in tomorrow and everyone else..." he pauses.

"Everyone else what?" I spit. Are they all going to show up tomorrow with a protection order against me and drag Ana's catatonic form from my home?

"They... um... they heard you, Sir." I look at him confused.

"What do you mean? They heard me what?" I ask.

"Your office is not soundproof, Sir. They heard you weeping." What the fuck do I care that they heard me? I was obviously broken about this whole thing.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean to me? Why should I care?" I bark.

"I was only telling you because I think that they may be remiss about wrongly accusing you, Sir." Too little, too late. I may not know all there is to know about handling your emotions, but I bet wherever "the crew" is tonight, they're holding each other together, and nobody was here for me. I had to cry to "Mommy."

"I don't care," I say flatly before going back into my bedroom to check on Butterfly.

She's awake... staring at the ceiling.

"Hey!" I say softly going to her side. She looks over at me... and she's still gone. Her eyes are beautiful blue and hollow. I sigh heavily. "Come on, Baby. Let's get you to the bathroom and then we need to get you something to eat, okay?"

I talk to her while I feed her, happy that she is there enough to eat for me but wishing with everything in me that she would say something to me. I'll be there for her, for whenever she needs me—however she needs me. I will love her if she stays this way forever. I won't let anyone take her away from me. I'll take her to a foreign country and care for her for the rest of my days if it comes to that, but I won't let them lock her away. I won't let them put her in the psychiatric ward like some sort of crazed lunatic. This is a bad patch. I know it is, and I won't let them take her away... I won't...

"Christian?" I am roused awake by Ray's voice. I rub my eyes to see that Ana is asleep in our bed again, and I have a terribly aching back from sleeping in the chair. I try to stretch and everything aches.

"Why are you sleeping in the chair, Son?" Ray asks.

"Because Mighty Maxine told me that I couldn't touch her or kiss her or hold her or breathe on her or any of the things that I do at night when we're sleeping," I say disdainfully.

"You're going to need some rest, Christian."

"I'll be fine. Right now, I need to take care of Ana." I protest.

"That's why I'm here now. I'll help you take care of her, but you're going to have to get some real rest."

"I function on very little sleep, Ray. If I'm about to break down, I'll go to bed." I promise. That seemed to be enough for him.

"How did she sleep?" he asks.

"Well enough, I guess. She ate her dinner then I took her to the TV room and we watched a movie. When it seemed like she was getting sleepy again, I brought her back in here and put her back to bed. I talked to her for a while and she fell asleep. Then I watched her until I fell asleep," I say, trying to stretch my back again.

"Christian, you have the look of a man who hasn't gotten any sleep. If you are going to take care of my Annie, you are going to have to get some rest," Ray tries to scold me.

"It's no use, Ray. I'm not allowed to sleep with her, and I can't really rest without her. I'm afraid this is the best we're going to get."

"Screw what _Mighty Maxine _says! Get in that bed and go to sleep with your woman. She's going to be awake soon and she's going to need you to be sharp!" he commands me quickly. Isn't this a change! The girl's father is demanding that I sleep with her! I don't think this has ever happened in my life before and the irony of it is not lost on me. I climb under the covers next to Butterfly and take one whiff of her hair and I don't remember anything after that.

I wake to the sun high in the sky and it feels like I have slept for days! I stretch out in my bed feeling for Butterfly and feel an immediate panic when I realize that she is gone.

"Ana?" I call out to her, hoping that she will answer. "Butterfly?" Nothing. I throw the duvet back and run to the en suite, thinking the worst. They took her while I was asleep. She's not in the en suite. I dash out of my room and into the great room, breathing a heavy sigh of relief at the sight before me. Butterfly is sitting on the sofa, dressed in a long-sleeved maxi dress with black print, and my mother is brushing her hair.

"Christian?" Mom says when she notices my state of disarray. "Are you okay?"

"I... I awoke and she wasn't there. I was... concerned," I say softly, trying to mask my fear. My mother nods at me.

"Well, take a shower, Son. Lunch is almost ready."

For the next two days, my mother, Ray, and I lovingly take care of Ana, but she is still not responsive. On Saturday afternoon, I have just put Ana to bed for a nap when Jason tells me there is company in the dining room. I don't bother asking who it is, I just want to get rid of them as quickly as possible and get back to Butterfly. I didn't sleep well last night because I kept thinking I was going to wake up and she would be gone again. I walk into the dining room, and I see them.

The Crew is here. I will fight each one of them with my bare hands if they try to take her out of this house. I look over at Jason to tell him my intentions. He sees it in my eyes and I note his discomfort, but he nods. I walk into the room without a nod.

"Chris," Allen greets me. "Please sit down." I only look at Allen.

"I'd rather stand," I say impassively.

"Christian, please," he implores me. I trust him for many reasons, one of which is that he is on my payroll, so I sit.

"We're assholes, Christian," Valerie begins, and I'm a little floored. "You're right. You have nothing to prove to us. You've proven time and time again that you love Ana and would do anything for her and at the first sign of uncertainty, we attack you unjustly." Am I hearing her right?

"We know that you wouldn't hurt her and that you only want to take care of her, but can you accept that we are afraid, too?" Mighty Maxine chimes in. "She's been through so much in such a short time and this is just something else to add to her mountain and bullshit. We know we were being shitty, but please don't fault us for being afraid."

"We've always had each others' back, Christian. We've always been there for each other," Garrett says. "None of us have ever experienced anything worse than a really bad break-up before now—nothing as horrible as this... or so we thought..."

"I think one of our biggest problems is that she could tell you what she was going through before she could tell us—well, besides Maxie because she's the therapist—but we were supposed to be her friends and she couldn't tell us. That really hurt. We were sure that there was more to it that meant you would know and we wouldn't," Phil chimes in. I sit silently at the end of the table, a little stunned and partially waiting for the other shoe to fall.

"Chris, I don't know if you've heard this before, but hurt people _hurt_ people. That's no excuse for them hurting you because like I said, I never doubted you, but these are the people who have watched Jewel suffering when they didn't know _why_ she was suffering. Do you remember when she came up missing and I told you that she and I had a contingency and that you were the unknown whether you liked it or not?" I do remember that conversation. I didn't like it one bit, but I understood it. I nod. "This is the same concept. We feel like one of us should have seen this coming, and it nobody's fault, but we're still hurt that it happened and even more hurt that we are somewhat out of the loop. Next to Ray, I used to know Jewel better than anyone. Now, I think I'm being replaced." I look up at him. I could never replace Allen in Ana's life. What does he mean? "I don't mind, Chris, and I don't mean that I'm being pushed away because you can forget it, Buddy. I'm here to stay." I laugh involuntarily at his comment. "However, I know that there is another very important man and I knew that I had to move over. You and I have already had this talk and I know that you won't hurt my Jewel, but they don't know you like I do yet." He's right about that. We have become closer than anyone on my office staff next to Ros since he has been working for me.

"We're not making excuses, Christian," Garrett says. "We were dead wrong to even imply that you had anything to do with this or that you were responsible in any way."

"You're right! You were dead wrong!" The voice I hear booming through my apartment belongs to Ray. "I haven't had much to say about this, but I'm saying something now. What do you think Annie would say right now if she saw the way that you all were treating Christian?" Those words cut each one of them in the stomach. They grimaced as if they were in physical pain. "Exactly! You should all be ashamed of yourselves! For five months, I have watched him treat my daughter like a princess; turn over rocks and send out a worldwide call for her safe return when she was kidnapped; personally fly a helicopter into an unknown situation to get her back; hold her together when she was falling apart and care for her when she couldn't care for herself—and this is the gratitude that he gets from her closest friends? I know that if she was coherent to see this, she would be very ashamed of you!" His words are harsh and cold—the words of an angry father.

"Christian, please forgive us," Maxine says choking on her tears. Garrett, Phillip, and Valerie tender similar pleas. They have been duly chastised and I don't have the strength to chastise them further.

"I won't hold this against you all," I begin. "I understand how she brings this out in people—how people just want to protect her from anything that can hurt her, but right now I'm hurt by this, and I just need a little time. I, Allen, or Ray will keep you all updated on what's going on with her. Feel free to stay or to come back and check on her at any time, but right now, I just need to get back in there with her." I don't look at any of them while I am talking. This is not something that I do. I consider it a sign of weakness to not be able to look someone in the eye while you are speaking to them. However, right now, I am weak and I don't care. I need to get back to my Butterfly. I hear various ones mumble ascent and I rise and go back to the bedroom to sit with my Butterfly.

Sunday evening, there is still no change in Butterfly's condition... and Ray has been talking to the doctors in our midst. I don't want to hide Butterfly from her father, but I will if he tells me to put my baby on the psych ward.

"Christian, I'm not telling you to put her on the psych ward. I'm telling you that she needs to at least go in for observation," Ray protests.

"If we take her in there, they are going to put her on the psychiatric ward, Ray, I'm telling you! This is what they do! That's who's going to be _observing _her! Once they put her in there, we may not be able to get her out!" I argue.

"What else can we do, Christian? She's been like this for four days!"

"I can stay with her! I can stay with her for as long as it takes for her to come back!" I'm nearly pleading.

"You have a company to run, Son. You can't just drop your life like that..."

"She _is_ my life!" I scream before I know it, and Ray is somewhat stunned into silence.

"What if she doesn't come back?" he asks softly. "What if she's irreparably damaged by this whole thing and she stays this way?"

"Then I'll take care of her. I'll do whatever I have to do."

"You can't do that, and you know it. For one thing, Annie wouldn't want you to do that."

"I'll get her the best care possible. She's going to come out of this—I know she is!" I insist.

"I hope so, Son, but that doesn't change the fact that she has to get help, now!"

"Please, Ray! Please don't let them take her away. Please don't let them put her in that place. She'll wake up alone and wonder why I let them do that to her!" I'm pleading again—nearly yelling.

"I don't think we have a choice, Christian. She hasn't changed in four days! Something else may be wrong!"

"Like what!?" I _am _screaming now. "What could be wrong with her? Do you know how much money I have? I will buy any specialists that she needs, but I'm not putting her in that place! I can't do it! Please don't make me do it!"

"STOP IT!"

Ray and I both freeze. We failed to realize that we were standing right outside the bedroom door—which is always open so that we can easily check on Ana—screaming our cases at one another. Now, Ana is sitting straight up in bed... screaming at _us_!

"STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!"

We both burst in the room and Ana continues to scream several more times just before she breaks down in soul wrenching tears and body shaking sobs. Ray and I look at each other, both at a loss of what to do next. Instinctively, we both sit on either side of the bed and wrap our arms around her and just let her cry.

* * *

_**Reviews are appreciated...**_

_**Love and handcuffs,**_  
_**Lynn X**_


	8. The Sleeper Awakens

_**I had some INSANE drama in my house today, so PLEASE forgive the incredibly late posting.  
**_

_**You all know that I will eventually work my way through responding to all of my reviews. For now, I want to address all of my guests...**_

_**To the guest who says that Ana was stupid for watching the video repeatedly and referred to her being a doctor—I thank you for your review. However, I have to address the whole "doctor" thing. You saying that Ana is "stupid" is a matter of opinion about the character and I won't dispute you on that because you are entitled to your opinion. However, she was stunned and she could have been stunned after the very **_**first****_ time that she watched the video. Watching the video repeatedly could have been a reaction to her _being_ stunned. Did you think about the possibility that each time she clicked to watch the video thereafter could have been a reflex action as a result of her being stunned? Or do you think that Christian walking into the room calling her name is what stunned her? Just something to think about while you are mulling over your opinions. _**

_**I'm more concerned right now about the "doctor" thing. I have to say that it bewilders me that people keep throwing this "doctor" thing up there:**_

"_**For a doctor, she's really stupid."  
"She's got really bad anger issues to be a shrink."  
"She's a psychologist. She should know better than that." **_

_**For the umpteenth time... She. Is. A. Human. Being. Before. She. Is. A. Doctor. And guess what, people? Humans are flawed! (Le gasp, say it ain't so!) Alas, it is very true. When pushed to our limits even the most docile, modest, educated, cultured, or sophisticated among us will flip the fuck out, go the fuck off, and fly the fuck over the cuckoo's nest! Need I remind you of the tragic shit that Ana has suffered? Please forgive me if in the wake of some of this tragic shit, some of her eggs seem to roll out of the basket! And by the way... HUMANS ARE STUPID! **_

_**AnaNymm—y'all HAVE to go read her review for chapter 6! She was in my HEAD, I tell you! She was in my HEAD! **_

_**To CM—Thanks for the reviews. Unfortunately, my life is WAY too busy at the moment to update twice a week, but I am hoping to be able to do some bonus chapters in the near future when things slow down a bit—keep your fingers crossed! Also, that's a good idea with Melanie; I think I may use a piece of that if you don't mind. ;-)**_

_**To Hun—Thanks for your review. Yes, there is really a ritual called Bisha'a or "trial by fire." You can read about it on Wikipedia. I put the link on my Pinterest page.**_

_**To Michelle B—I'm sorry! I thought I put Ana's car on Pinterest. I will do that toot-sweet! Thank you, Dear! Oh... and you really have it in for Carly, don't you? ;-) **_

_**To Single V—IKR!? Thank you for joining my twisted little world. Glad to have you on board! ;-) **_

_**To ZenMonkey—I am SO sorry that I made you cry on the airplane like that, but welcome to my world and thank you for your review. ;-)**_

_**To my guest reviewers that I cannot PM as well as Ana, Angela, Anna, Bass (yep... a BIG one!), Beth, Carol, CG Girl and Chocolate (I couldn't remember who it was that said Melanie was dirty and going to be in session with Ana... it was you two, huh?), DottiG, ELO306 (you will read in this chapter why Ana felt she had to watch the video), Jaimini (that was quite a reaction—I hope you are feeling better), Karen, LadyNate, Laney, Lori (I feel the same way!), Lovin50Shades (you have not seen the last of the Mistress, my love), OBNurse (writing as fast as I can ;-) smoochies!), Rachel, Raynedears, RWC, Sally (very impressive rant, lol), Teresaromance (you bring tears to my eyes, my dear!), TB, and Tj (ah, wishes... stay tuned), thank you all for your reviews, your opinions, your rants, your emotions, and your encouragement. **_

_**I'm sorry to put you all this this much trauma, but I'm very flattered by how many people described their heart aching for Ana and her plight. This means I am portraying the story as I hoped I would. Thank you all so much—all of you... even those who don't agree with me—for reading my story. **_

_**I had one troll this time. You know who your are. Kiss my ass. :-)**_

_**All disclaimers apply here...**_

**Chapter 8—The Sleeper Awakens**

_**GREY **_

She cried for so long, I didn't think she would _ever_ stop. She cried until her voice was gone and then she cried some more. A stunned but happy Gail brings some water into the room, hoping that this wasn't some hiccup in the program, so to speak, and that even though Butterfly was hysterically crying, she had come back to us. Butterfly was to the point of shuddering tears when she fell back onto the bed, exhausted.

"Do you want to stay with her, Ray?" I ask softly knowing that I have spent nearly every moment with her for the last several days.

"No, I think you should stay. She needs you now, and I think you need her, too," he concedes. I smile and nod. He returns the smile and leaves the room. I crawl under the covers and pull my shuddering baby close to me... and she responds. She curls her body into mine and even though she is visibly shrinking, she responds. I nuzzle her hair and kiss her cheek, holding her close but not too tight, and she relaxes. A few minutes later, she is asleep... whimpering, but asleep.

She's back. My Butterfly is back.

* * *

_**STEELE**_

Why were Christian and Daddy fighting? Why is Daddy here? What's going on?

I look over at the alarm clock—it's 3:16am. Christian is sleeping harder than I think I have ever seen him sleep. I roll out of bed and go to the en suite. What is this I'm wearing? Since when do I sleep in my clothes? I use the bathroom and then check myself out in the mirror. I look like hell! I mean I know I just woke up, but damn!

I pull the blue maxi dress over my head and pull on one of Christian's T-shirts. The last thing that I remember is watching that damn video this afternoon. I must have flipped the fuck out while I was watching it, and it must have been pretty bad for Christian to call Daddy. If he was going to change my clothes, why not just put me in my nightclothes? Boy do I have several questions for Mr. Grey when he wakes.

I go to the kitchen to get a drink. Why was Daddy here? Did I lose my marbles or something? Good grief, I hope I didn't make a complete fool of myself. I must have if Christian felt it was necessary to call my father. That's what I get for watching that damn video.

_You just had to know, didn't you, Steele? Living it wasn't enough for you. Noooooooo, you had to watch it, too. How did that work out for you?  
_Just fucking fine...NOT! Apparently, I've clocked out for the whole fucking afternoon _and_ evening. I know Christian must be so angry with me for watching that video.

I fix myself a cranberry spritzer and look for something for my headache. I have a lot of questions, the most prevalent of which is why were Christian and my father fighting. No sooner I finish my thought and down half of my spritzer, Christian comes out of the bedroom looking like a scared rabbit searching for a hiding place. What the hell?

"Christian?" I call to him. My throat is still a little sore from screaming at him and Daddy to stop screaming at _each other._

"Ana!" he exclaims like he just discovered the cure for cancer. Seriously... he sounded like he could have been saying "Eureka!" He all but sprints over to me and crushes me in his arms. His fear is palpable. What is this?

"What's wrong, Christian?" I say, holding him as much as I can as he has my arms crushed against my body.

"You're back. You're really back." _Back? _What does he mean?

"Christian, I'm confused and you're scaring me. I haven't gone anywhere." He pulls me back and looks in my eyes.

"Yes, Baby, you have." His eyes are large and sad. I can see the tears threatening to fall. I put my hand on his cheek.

"Please tell me what's going on," I beseech him. He takes a deep breath and lets it out. He drops his head, then takes my hand and leads me to a seat at the breakfast bar.

"What do you remember, Ana?" he asks.

"Watching that video through to the end and then watching you and my father screaming at each other. Why were you screaming at my father? Why is he here?"

"Oh, God," he moaned, his voice tortured as he grabs handfuls of his hair. He sighs heavily and says, "Butterfly, I need you to prepare yourself." Okay, I'm not afraid anymore... now, I'm terrified. "I got a call at Grey House telling me that there was a problem at your office..."

I sit in awe as he tells me how he found me glued to the screen after having watched that video for hours; about driving me home in Marilyn's Camry; about talking me to the bathroom and feeding me; about calling my father and activating the Contingency; about how my "friends" treated him; about begging my father not to admit me to the psychiatric ward.

"How long?" I ask, fighting to keep my composure.

"It's... Monday morning, Butterfly." I turn to him gaping in horror.

"Four days?" I gasp. "I've been catatonic for four days?" He nods solemnly. I will not fall apart. I will not fall apart.

"And you took care of me?" I ask. He nods again.

"Well, I did the first day and night, then Ray helped me for the rest."

"And my friends accused you of doing something to me?" Now, he's starting to get a little antsy.

"Well, not outright, but their demeanors and the questioning was very accusing. Maxine threatened me with a court order to have you removed. Their intentions and assumptions were crystal clear, and Allen was trying to smooth things over because he was the only one who didn't treat me that way. They eventually apologized, but I just couldn't talk to them anymore. No doubt, they'll be back over here tomorrow—well, today—to check on you. Maxine will definitely be here... maybe even with that threatened injunction and protection order to get you away from me and get you to the hospital."

"Injunction and protection order!?" I gasp.

"It's like I told you, I wasn't going to let them take you to the psychiatric ward. Both my mother and Maxine and eventually Ray told me that you might have to go to the hospital. I told them all that I would take care of you. When I didn't respond to Maxine saying that you needed to go to the hospital, she immediately said that she would get a court order and an injunction as your doctor to take you to the psychiatric ward if there was no change in your condition in four days," he explained.

"Well, what happened? How did she not get the injunction?"

"Like I said, she'll probably show up with it today. This is day four." Oh, really? Ms. Maxine thinks that she can just summarily make those decisions on my behalf, huh? Well, they don't have to worry about it because I will make sure that this decision is not left out in the open ever again after this date.

"Why didn't you just let them take me to the hospital? There may have been something that they could have done for me there," I ask, softly. He sighs heavily.

"I couldn't stand the thought of you waking up in a room with no windows, four white walls, and not knowing how you got there. You're a shrink... you would have known where you were. I couldn't stand that thought. When Ray and I were talking, we weren't arguing. The talk just became more passionate than either of us realized because he agreed that if you were really sick and you didn't return to us that you might need professional help, but I just couldn't wrap my mind around you going to the psychiatric ward."

Oh, this man—this crazy, stubborn, hard-headed, beautiful, wonderful man.

I literally leap from my seat at the breakfast bar into his arms and wrap my arms around him. I love him so much. With every drop of my essence, I love him... and he loves me. I kiss him on his neck, his ears, his cheek, any part of him that my lips can reach. He loves me. He's mine. I wrap my legs around him and we are engrossed in mad abandon, kissing and grasping each other wildly—him because he thought he had lost me, and me because he fought for me... he fought the closest people in my life, _all of them_, for me. He wouldn't let me go... he stayed with me, stayed by my side and cared for me. He could have listened and put me in the hospital, which I would have understood. I'm a professional, after all—but he didn't, and he wouldn't let anybody else do it, either. He fought for me until I came back. He's my prince. He loves me... and I love him... so much...

Several hours pass as Christian holds me close to him, wrapped in a blanket and watching the fire in the great room. During this time, I try to explain to him why I needed to watch the video. For some reason that I can't explain, I absolutely had to see it from the eyes of the observer. I had to see what these people saw and how they reacted to it. Was it really just a big party with me as the main attraction or did anyone in the group actually feel any remorse for what was happening?

I took notice to the fact that the group went quiet when I became unresponsive and they thought that I was dead. I could see that many of them really didn't want anything else to do with it at that point, but Carly just kept going. The second guy burned me thinking that I was going to jump and when I didn't flinch, he didn't want to do it anymore, but she just kept going. Carly put her foot on my butt to hold me down in case I moved. When I didn't move on that third burn, that's when people actually started panicking right before the police showed up, including Carly.

I could see that people were starting to feel remorseful for what was happening. They expected to beat me up and teach me a lesson. They didn't realize how serious what they were doing really was, but I don't care about that. I just wanted to see how people reacted, and I saw it. The Valley shut down, but not for the reasons that I thought. These kids were not so afraid of getting in trouble. They were more afraid of what actually happened to me; of what they did to me. This was more than the simple beat down that they had intended. Then the baby died, and now you've got murder. The fear of what was going on is what caused people to shut down about Green Valley, not necessarily the fear of being caught but the fear of what really happened. These kids were truly terrified. Half of them were probably quarantined voluntarily. The kids were like, "I don't want to go out there and get caught; I don't want it known that I was a part of this" and the unassuming parents were like "I don't want this kind of thing happening to my kid."

I always thought this was an elaborate Green Valley cover-up, but when I saw the fear on these kids faces, I knew. I knew that 90% of those kids probably never said a word about this incident ever again—not even to each other—but the Carly Madisons and the Cody Whitmores and, as I have now discovered, the Vincent Sullivans certainly had something to hide and have talked about it more than once since then.

However, their reasons and reactions don't really matter to me. They're all going to fry. One way or another, they are ALL going to fry.

"I can tell you who all is on the video," I say softly.

"You don't have to, we already know," he responds. I look up at him.

"How do you know?"

"Barney scanned the pictures and information from the yearbook and then used facial recognition software on the video and identified everyone in it that attended Green Valley High School. We have identified all but three of the people on the video... two now since we know who was operating the camera. Maybe she'll tell us who the other two were since she seems so anxious to make amends." He's talking about Melanie. My brain freezes for a moment when I think about the fact that I was helping her with dignity therapy.

"Butterfly?" Christian calls out to me concerned.

"I'm never speaking to her again, Christian." I say to him.

"Okay," he says squeezing me in his arms. "You don't have to."

"You can't either," I state firmly. He frowns at me.

"Why the hell not?" he questions.

"Because that information is privileged. Even though I blurted it out to Chuck, she told me that information in the course of one of our sessions. If you use that information and question her, I could lose my license."

"She told you information about committing a crime, Anastasia," he presses.

"Yes, she did, and I didn't tell the police... I told _Chuck!"_ A look of realization came over his face.

"Fuck!" he hisses frustrated. "So we've got someone who can tell us who the last two people are but we can't ask her because she told the victim of her involvement during a protected session. How fucked up is that?"

"It's very fucked up, but I like being Dr. Steele, so we have to leave her alone." I sigh. I want to rake her ass over the coals and force her to tell me who the fuck those people are that we can't identify, but I won't do it. I won't do it because I'm not cruel like she was. She's dying and I'm going to stay the hell away from her and let her fucking die. I'm not going to turn her in to the police like I should. I'm going to wait until she's dead before they ever know her involvement in this act. I won't be responsible for her living her last days in jail... if they were to be so cruel as to arrest her on her death bed.

I'm not like her.

"Tell me about the others," I say to a brooding Christian. "What happened to Carly Madison?"

* * *

When I open my eyes, I am curled up by the fireplace on the floor wrapped in my Velura throw. I am alone, but I can hear Christian's voice off behind me somewhere.

"If my tone was too harsh, it was only because I can't see her in a psychiatric ward and it scared the shit out of me, but I would never be disrespectful to you in any way. Please don't ever think that." His voice is urgent and pleading.

"I never thought that. It never crossed my mind. I knew exactly what you were doing and what you were saying. I am so proud of the fact that you love her so much. It lets me know that she is going to be in good hands for the rest of her life," he replies. Daddy? Is he going to let the cat out of the bag? Please, Daddy... you promised... "I know, Kid," he continues. "I see the same thing in your eyes that I feel for Mandy. I've never felt this way for anybody, ever—not even Annie's mother. So I know a man in love when I see it, and when the time comes for you to marry my daughter, you already have my permission."

Holy. Cow. Batman. Way to put pressure on him, Dad! Christian is silent for so long, I don't know what he's thinking. Should I reveal that I'm awake and put him out of his misery? Just when I thought that's what I would have to do, Christian speaks.

"Thank you, Mr. Steele," he says in a reverent voice. "That means so much to me."

"Why are you calling me Mr. Steele?" I can hear the frown in my father's voice. "You've been calling me 'Ray' for months now..."

"At this moment, the man who freely gives me his daughter's hand before I even asked and already knows that I will take care of her and love her like she's my own flesh... _that's _Mr. Steele. So Mr. Steele, thank you." I couldn't catch the lone tear that fell down my face as I listened to the exchange between my future husband and his future father-in-law. I drop my head. I know that Mandy could never replace me, but I also know that she and the new baby may share a spot that I have held for most of my life—my father's most prized possession. Now, he has trusted another man with the task of looking out for me and caring for me. It has lifted a huge weight off my shoulders and let me know that we are truly getting closer and closer to _our_ moment.

I uncurl my arms and legs in an audible stretch. I don't play possum well and Christian was very soon likely to know that I was no longer asleep. I push myself up on my arms and crack my neck from left to right to get my blood circulating. Two strong hands gently touch my shoulders and my surprise is genuine when I turn to see that they don't belong to Christian.

"Daddy!" I say, throwing my arms around his neck. "Hi, Daddy." I hold him close to me, my eyes closed breathing in his scent.

"Hi, Annie-Babe," he says, and I can tell that he is trying to hold in his emotions.

"I'm sorry that I scared you, Dad. I really didn't mean to. It was really dumb of me to watch that video alone. I'm really sorry, Daddy."

"It's okay, Sunflower. I'm just glad that you're back with us." _Sunflower_. I haven't heard that name in years! He only called me that name one time—the first time that Carla took me away, because he wasn't sure that he would ever see me again. Oh Daddy, I didn't mean to hurt you. I squeeze him tighter, closer to me.

"I know that you have to get back soon... but can you stay for a little while?" I implore him.

"I'll stay for as long as you want, Annie." That's my Daddy.

I throw on my yoga pants and insist on making breakfast for two of my favorite guys. As if the fates heard me wishing for the third, there is a knock at the door and Al appears in the great room.

"Allen!" I run from the kitchen and jump just in time for him to catch me in his arms.

"Jewel! My God, Jewel!" He grabs me around the waist and spins me around. "You scared the shit outta me, you fucking hag!" he scolds.

"I know. I'm sorry. I was stupid!" I say, my face buried in his neck. "Please forgive me."

"I always forgive you, you silly wench!" he says, giving me another squeeze before setting me on the ground. "Are you sure that you're okay?" He looks me over carefully.

"I'm fine," I assure him. "I'll talk it through with Maxie, once I'm done cursing her out." I turn around and walk back to the kitchen.

"So... you know," Al says solemnly, following me to the kitchen and taking a seat at the breakfast bar. I get the feeling that he wanted to be the one to tell me.

"It's not like he could keep it from me. I awoke at 3am wanting answers." I take his hand. "Thank you for sticking up for my boyfriend." Al smiles.

"I knew he couldn't have done anything to cause this, Jewel, but make no mistake. Had I thought otherwise, I would have led the charge against him," he assures me.

"I know, Baby, but their fears were unfounded and they went into attack mode, and I don't appreciate how they treated my man. Believe me when I tell you, I intend to make that very clear the next time I see them."

"Well, shower and change and get ready for battle, because I can tell you that you will see the whole gang in about three hours. Maxine is serious about getting a court order if you weren't well today. She tried to get me to get it for her, but I refused telling her that I was not going to ambush Ray and Christian like that and that she should at least get Ray's permission since he's your next of kin. She informed that Ray technically was _not_ your next of kin because there's no blood or legal adoption there."

What the fuck? Is he telling me what I think he's telling me?

"Allen, are you honestly telling me that Maxine was going to override my _father's_ wishes?" I ask horrified.

"I didn't say that. I said that she didn't think she needed Ray's permission," he corrected me.

"You and I both know that's the same thing, Counselor!" I snap. He stands mute, impassive. Fuck, that's exactly what he's telling me. "What the fuck! Did she fall off the fucking turkey truck and bump her fucking head?"

"I don't know, Jewel, but that's why I'm here so early. I was coming to warn Ray and Chris and help them hightail you out of here if they needed to."

"I don't know if they would have done it," I tell him. "Christian was still dead-set against it, but Ray thought that I should go to the hospital, too..." I shift on my legs. "However, the unstoppable Maxine Saunders didn't know that." I am getting angrier and angrier by the second. How dare she think her word carries more weight than my father!

"Well, she's at the court right now, so you should probably call and stop her. I don't think the others know that she still plans on going through with it." I think about it for a moment.

"No." Al looks at me confused.

"No?" he asks bemused.

"No. Let her get her court order. I have a better idea." I retrieve my phone and look for Marilyn's number. "Call Marilyn. Tell her that I'm okay but not to tell anyone. Let her know that I need her here in an hour. Do you have your laptop with you?"

* * *

Around the 3:00 hour, I have showered and changed and readied myself for the showdown. I am wearing a dark orange (nearly red) Diane Von Furstenberg Yakira Lily silkcrepe maxi-dress with a metal neckpiece as the halter collar. I have styled my hair in an intricate configuration of mirage braiding and spiral curls and I am donning one of my coveted pairs of barefoot sandals as well as the Cartier Love Collection earrings, bracelet and ring that Christian bought for me for the press release back in August. Do I want to make an entrance today?

Hell, yes!

I am touching up my lip gloss when I hear the commotion begin. Dad and Christian have been thoroughly briefed on my intentions and they both greet my friends as they arrive. Maxine's voice is most prevalent and I find myself shocked and more than a little appalled at the tone she is taking with my father—not rude, but quite authoritative.

"Ray, with all due respect, this is a court order. I have explained the situation thoroughly to the judge and since Ana doesn't have a blood relative to make the decision for her at this time, the responsibility falls to me as her therapist. She is in a mentally unstable state right now and she needs professional care. I would really like to do this with your permission, but I don't need it. All I need to do is contact the police and a professional ambulance service and present this court order." The nerve of her! She would really do this against my father's wishes. "Please, Ray. I don't want to fight you on this, but with or without your permission, Ana's leaving here today."

"Don't you think I should have something to say about that?" I proclaim, breezing out of the hallway an into the great room, my crepe dress giving the illusion that I am floating on my bare feet. I know that I look like a goddess—that was my intention. I feel like one, too. Several gasps fill the great room and Maxine clams up almost immediately. She doesn't know whether to laugh or cry at the sight of me.

"Ana!" Valerie exclaims, running to me to check and see that I'm real. She grabs my arms. "Are you okay?" she says, her voice cracking. It's then that I realize what my friends went through these last four days, but I still need to tell them how I feel. I kiss Val on her cheek.

"I'm fine, Val," I say softly, "but I really need you guys to sit down. We need to talk." Val and Gary take a seat on one of the white sofas and I notice that Christian and Daddy are making a hasty getaway before I can say anything to stop them. Maybe that's best—this is between me and my friends. Maxine and Phil remain standing near the door. Okay, if that's how you want it...

"I..." I'm having a hard time framing my words, so I just spit them out. "My father, Christian, and Allen have filled me in on everything that happened in my absence." I turn my gaze to Maxine. "_Everything!_" She shrinks a little while standing next to Phil, noting my obvious displeasure, but she says nothing. I screw up my courage and say what needs to be said to my longtime friend.

"I understand that you were looking out for my well-being, but the next time you try to railroad my family and the people that love me when it comes down to my care, when I wake up out of whatever stupor or coma that I am in, you and I will no longer be friends." She looks horrified at my statement.

"_I'm_ one of the people who love you, Ana." Her voice is nearly nonexistent.

"I know that, which is why we are still friends now, but Maxine Saunders—what in God's name gave you the right to think that you could override anything my _father_ says?" Realizing that she has been outed, she throws a nasty glare at Allen. "Don't you _dare_ throw a look at that man! Have you conveniently forgotten that not moments ago, I just heard you tell my father that you didn't need his permission to take me out of here?" Her gaze goes from accusing to chastised. "You were wrong! You know a lot about me and we have been friends for years, I will give you that. However, when it comes down to who knows me best and who has the most time in, it's my father, and then Allen, and then everyone else! I can partially understand you not wanting to take Christian's word for it since we have only been together for five months, but I am not going to tell you again that that man would never do anything to hurt me. He loves me on a cellular level and I would trust him with my life any day of the week. So you need to get used to it.

"You came into his home, bullied him around, and then marched out of here like you had the final say-so on what was going to happen to me. Then you show up today with a court order to have me committed, thinking that you didn't even have to consult the man whose name I currently carry—who by the way, happened to agree with you! Who died and made you Queen, Maxine?" Anger is radiating from my body as I was for my dear friend and therapist to explain herself. Her eyes fill with tears and her body begins to shake.

"I'm your doctor... and your friend... I was just trying... I was just looking out for you." I walk over to her and put my arms around her.

"I know that you were, but you can't do it that way. You can't come in and bulldoze over people's opinions and feelings that way." I pull her back to look at me. "When I awoke, I would have been livid with you, even more livid than I am now. Is that what you wanted?" She shakes her head. I give her a gentle squeeze and let her go. "To avoid this happening in the future, I've made some decisions. Have a seat." She and Phil take their place with the others on the large white sofa in the great room.

"I and my attorney," I gesture to Al, "have constructed advanced directives for my care in the event that I become incapacitated and unable to make decisions for myself. These instructions have been drafted by my attorney, signed by me, witnessed by my boyfriend and my father, and notarized by my assistant. These directives are retained by me and can be accessed by my assistant. Copies of these directives are retained by my father, my attorney, and my boyfriend. In the event that I cannot make my own decisions, since I have no _blood _relatives, they should be contacted _in that order _concerning my decisions. If there is any doubt as to my instructions, any two copies of these directives will serve as legal proof of my wishes for my care. Are there any questions?" The room falls silent. "There will be no more court orders and certainly no more bullying my boyfriend or trying to override my father. In relation to how you all treated Christian, I have three words for you... _how could you_?" ... And Angry Ana is back.

Silence would not do on this one. I waited for someone to answer and no one stepped forward.

"Jewel..." Al began and I put my hand up to stop him.

"I've heard your side. Now, I want to hear theirs," I tell him. After another long pause, Gary speaks.

"We didn't have any information, Ana. We just... walked into the situation and we had to take Christian's word for it. Nothing like this had ever happened to you before and we didn't have all of the facts to begin with. All we knew was that one of our own was hurting and we wanted to get to the bottom of it and he was the only one who had the answers."

"Only he _wasn't _the only one who had the answers. Marilyn was there, Chuck was there, and at some point I'm sure Jason was there..." I protest.

"Okay, but except for Marilyn, they all work for him," Phil chimes in.

"Al works for him!" I said, pointing to Al.

"Yeah, but Al wasn't there, Ana," Valerie defends weakly.

"Okay, so now basically, you're telling me that you are trying to explain away your angry-mob behavior with a conspiracy theory? You're trying to convince me that Christian, his two bodyguards, my assistant, and quite possibly Al all conspired in some kind of way to hurt me or to hide what hurt me? Because that's what it sounds like." I accuse.

"We've already been raked over the coals by Christian and your father, Ana..." Maxine points out wearily.

"... And now you're getting raked over the coals by me!" I say harshly back to her. "How would you feel if you had lost four days of your life to wake up and find out that your closest friends had accusingly called Phil to task over what happened to you when—as Gary so clearly pointed out—we didn't even have all of the facts?" Maxine stands accused and drops her head. I turn to the next person.

"Phil? How would that feel?" I am met with his silence and woeful stare.

"Valerie, you're in love with his brother. Would you want me to do something like that to Elliot?" I say, drawing her into the circle of the accused. Then I turn to Gary and simply say, "To Marilyn?" Again the woeful silence before Al says, "May I speak now?" I turn to Allen realizing that he has been deemed the mouthpiece for this crew of transgressors and gesture for him to continue.

"The last time we found you in any real state of devastation before Chris was when you discovered that Edward had been cheating on you. It did a real number on you, and as a result, we are very protective of you. This time, I am not among the guilty, but if I had thought for one second that he had hurt you, I would be standing here right now taking the same lashing they are. Your friends have seen the error of their ways, and they have apologized to Christian for their assumptions, but it is imperative that you recognize that their intense reactions were out of nothing but love and concern for you."

The Scooby Gang all look at me, sad-eyed and expecting. These people are my heartbeat. They have been for several years and hopefully will be for many, many more, but I am so beyond hurt and angry for how they treated Christian. My resolve is slowly breaking and I do understand that they love me. They just can't do this to him again—I won't tolerate it. As I am battling with my anger and my love for this group of ruffians before me, a gentle hand encompasses my waist pulling me against the warm, firm body of my beloved.

"He's right," Christian whispers in my ear. "Give them a break." I roll my eyes and sigh, dropping my head, my heart weighing heavy with emotion.

"It's wonderful to know that you guys love me," I say. "I love you, too, with all of my heart. Understand that I cherish our friendship and our bond, and I would kill anyone who hurt any of you, but please know this. I won't ever chose between Christian and you guys because I love you all so much, but know that if you alienate him, you alienate me too." The room is very quiet for several moments.

"We would never want that, Ana. Christian." Maxine says. I can feel that Christian is still frosty to her, seeing that she showed up today with a court order. "In my own defense, I really am sorry for how I spoke to you and how I treated you, and I'm sorry that I ignored Ray's authority in this matter, but I have to say this." She stands and walks over to us. "I don't apologize for getting this court order," she continues looking from Christian to me and back. "With all of my heart, I thought I was doing what was best for you and that's all that mattered to me. You needed to get better, and that's what I wanted. I had to battle my own emotions to do it, but I got that court order with only the best intentions, and as a doctor, you know that I'm right." She paused for just a beat but didn't give me the chance to respond. "As your friend, it was one of the hardest things that I have ever had to do, and I understand all of the emotions involved here. I'm relieved that you now have advanced directives for your care, because I never want to be in that place again. I may not have been the popular voice at that moment, but I was the voice of reason. I was not trying to be 'Queen.' I was just trying to make sure that you got the care that you needed." She drops her head. I sigh again.

"Dr. Steele thanks you," I say to her and she raises her head. "Anastasia Steele says don't ever go against my father or Christian again. You guys can work out differences without anybody being bullied. Even in light of my mental and physical state, this did not have to happen. Can you understand that?" Maxine nods again.

* * *

_**GREY**_

The tension was still palpable in the air as Butterfly explained what happened to her. As I expected, her friends were very kind and supportive of her, but I had little to say to them. I love Ana very much, but this is one of the reasons why I was so standoffish from people to begin with—their propensity to judge.

I've lived most of my life in an alternative lifestyle. I knew that most people didn't understand—really didn't _care_ to understand—who I was and what the lifestyle meant to me. They saw the whips and the chains, the unorthodox methods of pain and pleasure, the limits of titillating torture and their Puritanical minds shut down to anything good or normal coming from it. To them, we were all sexual deviants—twisted, sick-minded individuals who could not function in proper society, so we chose to steal away to back alleys, speak-easy-type clubs, and horrendous dungeons to do our bidding. Among those "deviants," I was normal. I never had to explain myself. Now, among the regular folk, I find myself once again defending my intentions and sincerity.

I held Butterfly close to me while she reconnected with her friends, then politely and quietly bid them Goodnight when they left. As I closed the door, I turned to find her looking at me expecting, searching.

"They've ruined it, haven't they?" she asks honestly.

"Ruined what?" I respond, not sure exactly to what she is referring.

"The relationships that they were forming with you." I don't have the heart to tell her that, at this very moment, whatever relationship that I had with her friends is shattered to pieces, but that doesn't mean that it is completely beyond mending.

"It'll take some time," I say honestly. "It's something that I didn't expect. I'll be fine." She walks over to me and puts her hand on my cheek. I've missed her touch and my body responds immediately. She closes the space between us and pulls my face down to hers, kissing me gently, then purposefully. I feel her body melt as mine ignites.

"Where is Ray?" I ask, almost ready to take her on the floor right here and now.

"He's spending the night with Mandy," she says softly as she leads me by the hand back to our bedroom.

Our bedroom has been remodeled in the most recent months. My bachelor furniture was replaced with a dark wood custom-made California king-sized platform bed—no foot board, but a slatted sleigh-type head board—with matching nightstands, chest of drawers, and armoire. Butterfly backs me up to the foot of our new very high bed and proceeds to remove my T-shirt. My body is aching for her as it has been for the last several days. She quickly removes my sweat pants and boxer briefs before pushing my naked body so that I fall backwards on the bed. Next, she releases a single clip on her neckpiece and her dress glides off of her body and lands on the floor. She stands before me in a pair of beautiful red lacy panties and her jewelry.

I'm about to explode.

She climbs onto the bed over me, kissing me and crawling, forcing me to scoot up the bed and lay on my back. Her skin is soft and warm against mine and her delicate curls gently caress my shoulders. Her scent is mesmerizing and her lips are delicious. I am _starving_ for her! I take her face in my hands and devour her lips as she straddles me, brushing her lace-bound sex against my erection. Fuck, she's torturing me! Her lips leave mine and travel down my cheek, my chin, my chest... Shit, I know where she's headed.

"Baby, no," I protest. "I won't last..."

"Ssshhh!" she chides. "Yes!" and she continues until her luscious lips are locked onto Greystone.

"Oh, hell!" I yell out, so glad that her father isn't here as there is no way on earth I could keep this quiet. She has clamped down _hard_ on my manhood and she is sucking with extreme purpose! Shitfire and skyrockets, she's trying to suck my appendix out through my dick. I try to hold my hips still, but it's no use. I am being fucked by this woman's glorious mouth... _well. _

"Shit! Shit! Oh, fuck!" I can't even think anymore. My knees are bent, my head is thrown back, my fingers are tangled in her curls and I am pumping feverishly into her mouth. She doesn't falter; she matches me stroke for stroke with powerful suction and a lovely, relentlessly talented tongue. Son of a bitch, this feels so good! I hear myself moaning and my own tortured cries are turning me on. All I can think to myself is "Damn, that poor sucker sounds like he's having a _great_ time!" and by fuck, he is!

I feel my balls tighten and instinctively, Butterfly sinks her nails into my chest. I nearly howl as hot juices spring from my balls, not doubt choking my Butterfly. Again, she doesn't falter. She drops down on me balls deep, taking my head into her throat and squeezing with her throat and jaw muscles, still caressing me with that torturous tongue.

That shit feels so good it almost hurts!

"Oh, God! Aaaah fuck!" I am definitely thrusting deep thrusts into her mouth now. I have handfuls of hair, pressing her sweet lips hard against my hips and getting my dick as far into her tight pussy—er, I mean mouth—as I can. My legs are trembling and shaking ferociously as her jaws are mimicking the quivering and contracting actions of her orgasmic pussy and I can't tell the damn difference! I am reduced to low-toned moans and whimpers as she sucks every bit of juice from me, not stopping until I breathlessly release her hair and fall back onto the bed in a useless mound of flesh.

She innocently rises to her knees and sits back on her feet while I catch my breath from an orgasm four days in the making. She is looking at me with licentious eyes, her playful curls falling wildly in her face even though her intricate style from earlier this evening is now ruined.

Oh, Ms. Steele, you are going to get it now...

I quickly snatch her from her perch between my legs and slam her to the bed. She gasps from the surprise and lies motionless on her back.

"Don't move," I command her quietly and she nods. I open the top drawer of the nightstand and remove the leather cuffs we keep there... the same leather cuffs that we wore that first night that we visited the BDSM club. I attach one cuff to her wrist, feed the chain through the slats in the headboard then attach the chain and second cuff.

She lies there with her hands above her head, her blue eyes still swarming with lust. Now straddling her, I put my hands on her shoulders and slowly drag my fingertips across her skin and down to her breasts. I tease the skin there and then trace circles over her areola. She is pinned under me with her wrists cuffed and she can't move.

"Oh," she whines and I know the sensation is intense as I brush across her nipple then neglect it, the little bumps rising around her areola and her nipples hardening in anticipation. Keeping her body pinned under me, I lower my lips to the right nipple and pull it in, sucking gently at first and then intensifying the pressure... slowly, slowly... When her nipple pebbles in my mouth, I release it, drawing a sigh of frustration from her. I move to the other nipple and repeat the process... soft pressure, then intense, only this time I tease the first nipple with my thumb an forefinger while the second one pebbles in my mouth.

Her breathing quickens and she tries to squirm under me, but I have her locked. Pulling at her restraints, she begins to moan and gasp and just at that crucial moment, I stop. She whines in frustration as I kiss down her body to her pelvic bone, just at the top of those gorgeous red, lace panties. I normally rip them off of her, but these are too pretty. I hook my thumbs inside them and slowly pull the pretty lacy things down her legs. She is writhing with desire as I pull them off her feet and drop them to the floor. Without hesitating, I throw her knees over my shoulders and dive face first into her hot wet sex.

"Ah! Christian!" she cries as I hungrily lap up her juices. Just enough... just enough to satisfy me. I start to feel the stiffening between my legs again as her thighs start to stiffen on my shoulders. I cease my assault as her muscle start to pulsate in my mouth and she nearly wails her frustration.

"Christian!" Her cry is tortured and I soothe her.

"Relax, Baby. Enjoy it. When you do come, it will be fire!" I promise. She breathes through her waning orgasm as it melts away. I get off the bed, reach inside the drawer in our platform bed and locate the spreader bar in our little stash of toys. When I rise with the spreader, her eyes go large. I attach the spreader to both ankles and push them open only slightly. I don't want them to be wide or uncomfortable for what I'm planning, but do want to prevent her from closing her legs.

I crawl between them and work her clitoris to the edge once more with my hungry tongue and when I am certain that she is about to explode, I blow gently to bring her back down.

"Christian, please!" she cries. Now my dick is throbbing and ready. I rise on my knees between her legs, sitting upright with her knees resting on my hips and her feet at my ass, still separated by the spreader bar. I put two pillows under her hips and now she is open and exposed to me, ready for whatever I want. I first tease her with the head of my shaft. When she starts to shiver again, it takes everything in me not to thrust into her. She's too ready and I have to stop again.

"Oh, God. Please... Christian, please..." I rub her thighs, her hips, and her abdomen. Not yet, beautiful Anastasia. Come back down for me, Baby. After several moments of me gently caressing her skin, she finally calms herself and relaxes. That's what I want. I want to spend some time inside of her, and she was so ready that it would have been over in a second. Even now, I'm going to have to coach her to control it or it will still be over too soon.

"You are so beautiful... so irresistible," I say looking down at her gorgeous body lying there bound to our bed and waiting for me. She sighs heavily. "I'm going to love your beautiful body now, but I want you to hold your orgasm." Her eyes widen at this statement. "Hold it off as long as you can, because when you come, I want to feel your soul shaking." I feel her shiver at my words before she nods her agreement.

Slowly, I sink into her. She gasps and moans loudly as her soft, velvet sex pulls me in. It's absolutely heavenly. I'm fucking her pussy from every angle tonight, hitting her from every direction. First direction, north—I grind into her from the bottom and pull out at the top, then grind in and pull out repeatedly from the top, causing my solidly stiff shaft to rub against her clit in torturous repetition. Butterfly follows directions well, because her body stiffens and she fights off the impending orgasm that I knew was coming.

"Yes, Baby," I groan, fending off a rising release of my own. "That's my girl."

I change my stroke to side to side—east and west. Now, my dick is hitting every wall inside her pussy. She is getting wetter and wetter and her core is making delicious sloshing sounds as I stroke her.

"Soft and wet," I breathe looking down at her tortured expression as I torment her sexy, wet mound. "Sssss, damn, Baby you are so tight... tight and hot." She groans as she is obviously fighting to keep from coming, and I know the words are weakening her defenses. She loves it when I talk to her. Now I'm teasing her from every angle while I say the words that she loves to hear.

I move to the final direction. The south stroke is deep in then slowly out from the bottom all the way to the tip so that the head of my dick hits her g-spot on each stroke. I save this move for last because it is agonizing for me, too. I tease her with just the head, bringing her to the edge of her senses but nearly losing my mind as well, proclaiming to her the sweet agony that is being inside her but unable to come until she does.

"Fuck, Baby, your body is so sweet. You're torturing me, Baby," I breathe as I continue to tease her with my head, only occasionally thrusting the entire shaft into her. Don't come yet, Butterfly. You can hold it a while longer.

"God, you're making me wait. It's so good..." I groan. She moans loudly and nearly loses the fight with that one, but I slow my stroke only slightly, just enough to pull us both back from the brink.

"Christian! Fuck!" she calls out in frustration and agonized ecstasy. Now, I almost lose it. I have to stop stroking completely to keep from blowing off inside her!

"Ugh! I want to come so bad. Can't you feel my dick throbbing? Swollen, pulsing, and throbbing, just ready to burst." If she can, I don't know how, because she's throbbing just as much as I am. She's taking in deep breaths as I slowly begin to thrust again. Shit, she feels so damn good. She's squeezing tighter and tighter. I know that she is fighting with everything in her not to come now.

"Baby it's killing me," I confess. "You're so tight, like a vise. I can barely get in." I move my hips slightly in a circle and she groans from deep in her chest.

"It's squeezing me so hard. Can you feel it? Right there," I declare and I slowly thrust into her deeply again. Her mouth is open and her eyes are closed. No sound is coming out now, just short, tortured breaths—and as if it were possible, she's actually getting wetter. Fuck, I'm going to lose it.

"You are so juicy," I groan as I grab her hips and pull her into me, onto me, forgetting that I was trying to prolong the pleasure. "God, it feels so good it burns." I am thrusting slowly and deeply into her and she is still silent, still breathing erratically, and her muscles are going insane. I am thrusting hard and long now, burying myself inside of her each time. Holy fuck, she is on fire inside! So hot... so, so hot...

"I'm aching, Baby. I need to come so bad!" I groan.

With those words, a primal, frightening cry comes from my Butterfly as this mighty orgasm clutches her body. Every muscle in her body contracts, and all of her skin flushes a bright pink as she is laboring through this vicious climax. I was on the down stroke, balls deep, when it struck. Her muscles clenched with the power of Hercules and sucked me in with the force of an F-5 tornado.

"Oh-ho fuck!" I choke as my hips freeze, my dick buried deep inside of her. I can't move. Her fiercely clenching and contracting muscles will not let me pull out. "An... Ana... Ana..." I pant. I am helpless and useless. None of my orgasm control is working as invisible hands hold my pelvis to hers and a powerful vacuum mercilessly sucks my seed from me. The pleasure is unspeakable. This is the kind of orgasm that can give a weaker man a heart attack! I rest my weight onto her body a little as her pussy continues to rip pleasure from me... I have no choice; this orgasm is insanity.

"An... ha... ha... Ana... oh... Baby... please..." I don't know why I'm begging. She couldn't stop it if she wanted to. Her body is still rigid and her cries of passion have become inarticulate whimpers. My dick is still throbbing inside of her contracting muscles, draining of every single drop of cum that could possibly remain. There will be no encores tonight. I finally feel the ebbing of my torturous orgasm and I collapse completely on top of her. Her muscles are still contracting and I don't know if these are aftershocks or a continuation of the orgasm as she is still whimpering, tears springing from her eyes and rolling down her temples.

I quickly release her wrists without withdrawing from her—not that I could if I wanted to. I lay my head on the bed next to her, holding her face in my hand, gently wiping her tears away from one temple and kissing her other temple where the tears have fallen.

"Christian..." she keens softly through her tears.

"Butterfly... I love you, Baby," I say between kisses.

"Christian..." is all she can muster...

I awaken in this same position. My lips are close to her face, but now brushing against her cheek. My hand is on the other side of her face, my fingers partially buried in her soft, silky hair. The morning sun is shining through the window. I am laying mostly on top of her but partially off to the side, still between her parted legs, still buried inside of her and my morning wood responds almost immediately. I don't want to attack her sleeping body, but Greystone is begging me to thrust for just a taste of what caused us to fall into a coma-like sleep with my Butterfly still restrained in the spreader bar.

I look up at her angelic face. She is so content that she is purring. I want to get her out of this spreader bar but I don't want to disturb her. I try to move and Greystone starts to throb in protest. Come on, now... down Boy! I'm not into screwing unconscious women! I try to pull out again and she stirs.

"Christian," she says without opening her eyes. She slowly tries to stretch as much as she can beneath me and her sex recognizes its counterpart. "Mmmm," she moans. I don't know if she's asleep or awake, but she's going to have to stop that. A man only has so much willpower with a rock hard cock buried in the happiest place in the universe! I try to get up again, but she protests.

"No, don't leave," she breathes softly and her hand runs through my hair. I think my eyes crossed for a minute.

"Baby," I warn. She slowly opens her sapphire eyes to half-mast and they meet my aroused grays as she gently rocks her hips into mine.

"I'm awake," she whispers, "Love me." I groan as I slowly pull out of her and glide back in, feeling her walls on every side of me, every inch. "Yes," she breathes as she closes her eyes again, "like that." I am still lying partially on top of her, my head next to hers on the bed. Her left hand is in my hair cradling my head while her right hand caresses my back. I stroke slowly into the woman that I love, my eyes closed so that I can focus on that part of our bodies that is so deliciously connected.

"Anastasia, I love you so much." I kiss her ear and her cheek then nuzzle my nose in her hair.

"I love you too, Christian," she whispers. I take her hand from my hair and tangle my fingers in hers, still loving her deeply and slowly. It is... pleasant and moving and emotional. I feel her muscles gently start to quiver.

"Slow, Baby," I say as her hips begin to move. "I want you to feel it, slow and deep. Can you feel it, Anastasia? Can you feel me loving you? All of me?" I ask as I pour myself into each stroke, each sensuous thrust.

"Yes, Christian... I feel it. I don't know if I can take it," she whines as her body starts to tremble. I know, Baby. This is all of my love, and it's powerful. I know, because sometimes it's too powerful for even me.

"Breathe, Baby." I kiss her cheek again as I continue to make love to her. "Enjoy. Feel it. Just let me love you." I kiss her again. "I'll never hurt you, never harm you. Just feel my love."

"Okay," she breathes, and I feel her body relax under mine. She is giving herself to me, completely, and it just makes my love for her swell even more.

"My Butterfly," I breathe as I bury myself in her again, "my heart and soul, my love..."

"Christian," she gasps without opening her eyes, "I feel it..."

"Yes, Baby," I breathe as my release starts to build in my groin and my chest. "Take my love, Baby. It's all for you."

"Christian," she breathes a tortured breath and her body releases, a quiet rumble that causes her to tremble and whimper and wheeze just a bit, but contained—contained in our little love bubble.

"That's it, Baby. That's perfect... so perfect..." and I clench her hand tightly, bury my face in her neck, and find my own quiet rumble.

We are both panting, but not completely out of breath. I rock myself gently into her and she moans as we both enjoy the aftershocks.

"You know you complete me, don't you?" I whisper in her ear.

"Just as much as you complete me, Christian," she says softly. I lay my head next to her and we fall off to sleep...again.

* * *

"We really have to get you out of that spreader bar," I say as we stir for the second time this morning.

"It's not bothering me," she says as she starts to stretch and I remember just how flexible she is.

"Nonetheless, I want to bathe you and dress you and feed you, so I will have to release you to do that."

"Yes, Sir," she says softly. I smile at her and kiss her gently on the lips as I finally pull out of her after several hours of being nestled in her warmness. She giggles as I slide down her body and then out of the circle that is her legs and the spreader bar. I release both of her ankles from the leather restraints and she straightens them immediately.

"Are you okay," I ask as I rub her thighs. She nods.

"Just perfect, Mr. Grey," she says as she looks at me with loving blue eyes. "Just perfect."

Several minutes later, we sink into a luxurious cucumber melon bath and I gently wash her entire body. I had done this for four days, but today, I am rewarded with the appreciative groans of my Butterfly as I clean her beautiful skin. I wrap a bath blanket around her and gently dry her skin again before leading her to our bedroom and sitting her on our bed.

"Wait here for me, Butterfly," I say. She nods, smiling sweetly. I quickly dry off in the closet and don a fresh pair of boxer briefs, some black jeans, and a linen shirt. Then I make my choices for Butterfly and take them into our bedroom. She is still obediently sitting on our bed, wrapped in the bath blanket.

"Come, my beloved." I take her hand and guide her from the bed to a standing position. I start the ensemble off with a sexy black lingerie set. The panties cover the bottom half of her ass while the top half in the back is a butterfly that covers the crack of her ass and straps that attach the butterfly to the panties at the top—leaving the tops of her luscious ass cheeks exposed. The bra is a half tankini with a large butterfly in top in the back where the straps meet over the shoulders. It looks absolutely exquisite against her tattoo.

"My God, you are so beautiful," I say, kissing her shoulder. "I would take you again, but I need to feed you." She smiles at me again.

"You're insatiable, Mr. Grey," she says stroking my face gently. I growl and remove the dress that I chose for her from the hanger.

"Arms up, Beautiful." She raises her arms over her head and I pull on a . It has a V-neck and V-back with strings that tie across the shoulders in the back. The V-back drops down just far enough to show the butterfly on the top of her tankini. I brush her hair so that it now falls in big waves over her shoulders and down her back.

"Join me for breakfast?" I say holding my hand out to her.

"Of course," she says with a coy smile as she takes my hand and we go out to find what Gail has prepared to eat.

We happily bend the corner and enter the great room. On our way to the kitchen, we find a couple in quite the compromising position on our sofa.

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad!"

* * *

**_A/N: So all is semi-normal in the Grey/Steele household once again... but Christmastime is coming. What do you think is in store for our couple around the bend. Let's just say that 2012 will not go out like a lamb. Stay tuned..._**

_**Pictures of places, cars, fashion, etc. can be found at pinterest dot com/ladeeceo/mending-dr-steele/**_

_**Shoot me over an email at divinebronzegoddess at gmail . com (no spaces of course and use the "at" sign) to join my mailing list and stay up to date on blogs, publishing of my stories, etc. I do have some emails that I still need to respond to. I am not ignoring you. I promise I will respond this week to ALL emails!**_

_**Feel free to review—it is greatly appreciated.**_

_**Love and Handcuffs!  
Lynn x**_


	9. Making Preparations

_**To the guest who made the comment about Zooey Deschanel—when I first read this review, my feathers got all ruffled... but not because I'm a huge fan of Zooey Deschanel. It was because no matter what I privately thought, I never publicly slammed anybody's choice for Ana or Christian. There are several popular views of who should play Christian and Ana and as you know, I don't agree with any of them for different reasons—which is why there is no picture on my Pinterest of MY Christian. I think Zooey Deschanel is very pretty. I think she has lovely features and beautiful eyes. As a matter of fact, her eyes are what drew me to her. **_

_**My feathers are not so ruffled anymore, because I realize that everybody has an opinion and they are entitled to it, so I'll give you mine. Deschanel may not be pretty enough for your Ana, or even for E. L. James' Ana, but I happen to think that she IS pretty and she's just fine for mine. That's all I'll say on that. Thanks for your opinion.**_

_**I finally got to read some of my reviews on chapter 6 when Ana saw the video. I so want to thank you all for realizing how hard that was for me to write, but how necessary it was as well. I even had someone tell me that they were ashamed of themselves because they felt like they were holding the camera and they did nothing to stop it. I had someone else say that Ana said eight words before the attack and four of them were "What did I do?" I cried. Most awesome compliments EVER! **_

_**To Bass (you noticed that similarity to Christian, huh?), Chocolate (OMG, you are SO right), hun (thank you, Darling, I will remember that), michelle b (never apologize for a long review—I love them; and I adored "dotting her eye!"), RWC (Thank you so much), Soph (I have to keep you on your toes!), Teresaromance (as always, thank you too Babes!), and the mean guest (I SO get what you are saying—that's why there is such a contrast between Ana and Maxie and psychologists), thank you all for your reviews and input. **_

_**To my guests who didn't leave names, there were soooooooooo many GREAT reviews from you guys. Thank you so much, and please, please, please try to leave a name in your reviews so that I can address you and thank you personally—even if you don't agree with me on something. ;-)**_

_**All previous disclaimers apply...**_

**Chapter 9—Making Preparations**

_**STEELE**_

Oh my God, I'm damaged for life. That is just not a situation that I ever wanted to see. "For Christ's sake, Dad. Get your hand out of her shirt! You're on my sofa!" I already have the TMI of knowing that my dad is supposedly "some kind of wonderful" in bed. I don't need the added damage of seeing his pre-game moves! For crying out loud, I'm already in therapy, People!

Christian is snickering next to me and I give him a swift elbow in the side.

"Ow! What?" he says, feigning innocence. "Maybe they got bored waiting for us. We were similarly distracted this morning, you know."

"Yes, but not on the sofa!" I scold and turn my attention back to my naughty father and his girlfriend.

"Um... sorry, Annie," was all he could say. I shake my head at them.

"Have you two horny teenagers had breakfast yet?" I ask, pulling a snickering Christian into the kitchen behind me. It's a wonder that Gail didn't walk out here and catch them. Then again, maybe she did...

"Um, yes... hours ago, in fact," Dad says, slightly accusing. I look up at him.

"Don't give me that tone, _Father_! I was in the privacy of my bedroom!" I say, shaking my finger at him. He put his hands up in surrender.

"I'm actually on my lunch break, Ana," Mandy chimes in, walking towards the kitchen. "Ray told me that you were doing better and I wanted to see for myself." She gives me a sincere hug.

"Thank you, Mandy. I'm much better," I respond with a smile. "We've lost several days—we really need to get together and solidify the plans for New Year's Eve."

"I agree," she says. "We only have 20 more days to make this happen, but I can't right now. My time is up. Tomorrow after work? Say around 6?" she bargains.

"Perfect. We'll get together then," I concur. "There are only a few more things we need to handle." She smiles then goes to my father and kisses him on the lips.

"See you tonight, Baby," she says sweetly to him. He smiles as she leaves the apartment. I gaze at my dad.

"What?" he says in that same phony way Christian did a moment ago.

"Mm-hmm," I say shaking my head.

"Marilyn came by earlier," Dad chimes in changing the subject. She wanted to know whether or not she should cancel your appointments for today." Cancel my appointments? Oh shit! It's Tuesday. This whole incident has my inner calendar screwed up and I thought it was Saturday. "I told her that by the looks of things, you probably wouldn't be in the office today." I drop my head.

"I'm going to lose my patients if I keep canceling my damn appointments!" I say with dread.

"What are you talking about? Those people love you!" Christian exclaims. "And if they don't, you have a waiting list of people a mile long eager to take their places."

"Let's not test that theory," I say, knowing that I have plans for next week that may require that I take yet another day off.

"Well, anyway, Marilyn dropped off an envelope for you. She said it was something that you were looking for and told me to tell you that the rest were in your email," Dad says to me. "She put the file in your office upstairs."

"Thanks, Dad," I say, rummaging through the refrigerator and pulling out some hors d'oeuvres and finger foods that Gail keeps prepared at my request. Mr. Grey likes to have full-course meals most often. I, on the other hand, like light foods and lots of them—especially during the daytime. He's feeding a lot more mass than I am, but still... He eats like a horse, I don't. Over lunch, I ask my dad if he and Mandy have talked about the wedding.

"I just want Mandy to be happy," Dad says after finishing one of my favorite honey ham and turkey pinwheels. "I've had a wedding before—she hasn't."

"It's still your wedding, too, Dad. Isn't there anything that you would like to see?" I ask him. He smiles.

"Well, you know that I want to see fireworks," he says smiling.

"Oh, there are plenty of fireworks between you and your fiancée!" I declare, taking a sip of my cranberry spritzer.

"No, I mean _real_ fireworks." Oh, star bursts and skyrockets.

"Well, that's a no-brainer. The Space Needle is a mile away. We can watch the fireworks from the penthouse or the roof. Next."

"I want beer. _Real _beer. Budweiser." Christian's face scrunches.

"Um, Ray... every time you drink Budvar, you're drinking Budweiser. They're made by the same company." Christian says.

"Well, you can have as much Budvar as you like. I want my bottles to say 'Budweiser.'" I smile at my dad.

"Budweiser it is, Dad," I assure him. "What about music?"

"Whatever Mandy wants, but throw in some Motown." That means we'll need a DJ and not a band, or maybe some sort of compromise. I hope I can get one at such short notice. What am I saying? For the right price, I can get one. I'll see what Mandy says.

"Anything else that you can think of?" Daddy sighs.

"I know you're famous and all now, Annie, but please... no three-ring circus. I'd just as soon go to the courthouse and keep it quiet than to have my simple nuptials splashed all over the paper." His eyes are pleading. I completely understand where he's coming from. Christian and I have been the center of attention ever since we became an item. Everybody wants a piece of AnaChris—and did I mention that I utterly _hate_ that nickname? It sounds too much like "Antichrist."

"We've already prepared for that, Daddy." We have put on the wire that Christian and I are going out of town for the New Year's Eve weekend. We have booked the jet to leave on the 28th to an undisclosed location, and we will have a decoy car leave for Sea-Tac that night to throw the dogs off the scent. Most of the preparations for my father's wedding will be finalized that weekend while the press thinks we are out of town, and the jet will make a quick round trip with a couple of Christian's GEH employees to make the whole thing look authentic. It will be back at the hanger on New Year's Eve to take Dad and Mandy on a special trip that we have planned for them. "No monkeys, lions, tigers, or bears. I promise." I say with a smile.

"Thank you, Annie. As long as my two girls are there, then it will be perfect." He hugs me and I can't help the lone tear that falls down my cheek. My Daddy is getting married. After that witch that I once knew as my mother tried to drain him of his youth, he is getting a chance to start over with Mandy—a new wife and a new family. That really makes me happy. "Why are you crying, Annie?" he asks concerned. Christian looks over at me, concern etched on his face as well.

"Because I love you and I'm happy for you and I'm honored that you are letting me do this for you." I tell him with a smile. He hugs me again and I can't help but think of how much I love my Daddy.

We continue our lunch talking about the plans for the New Year's Eve party and for Christmas. As early afternoon sets in, Daddy prepares to leave so that he can take care of a few things before he meets Mandy this evening. He gives me a big hug and a kiss as he will be leaving to go back to Montesano in the very early morning. "I have a business to run," he says, smiling sadly, "and I must get back to it." I return his hug and kiss him on the cheek.

"Be safe, Dad. I'll see you on Christmas Day." He squeezes my hand before shaking Christian's and leaves. Christian slides his arms around my waist and kisses my shoulder.

"I have a business to run, too," he says, softly. "I haven't been there for a few days. Will you be okay while I do some work?"

"Yes," I sigh. "I've got a practice of my own to save." I turn around and kiss him on the nose. "I'll be upstairs."

I had asked Marilyn to bring me all of Melanie's records so that I could get as much information as I could on her past and her life since the incident. There wasn't much to see. Unless she lied about what she told me—which I highly doubt—her life was pretty uneventful. From what I could see, she never spoke to her cousin after the attack. She went back to her corner of the world and never even stepped foot in Henderson again. I review my notes to see if she ever mentioned falling out with a cousin or a distant relative... she didn't.

She set me up perfectly to lower the boom on me right at the precise moment that she knew I wouldn't be able to use it against her. I don't know much about the progression of cancer, but I know for sure that this woman truly has one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel. I find myself fighting with my morals and scruples to not wish that she would just die already. I'm fighting an inner battle between the desire for revenge and justice and the compassionate and empathetic person that I have purposely fought to become since my attack. I always knew that I couldn't let the incident consume me and on many occasions, I was able to live my life like it never happened. Now, it's hovering over me again begging for attention and closure, and I plan to get it this time. There's nothing I can do about Melanie. Hell, there's nothing that I _need_ to do. She's dying before 30 of a painful, debilitating disease. I don't want to see her again, but I think Karma has done enough to her already.

I take some time to call my patients from the last few days to personally apologize to them for canceling my appointments with no notice. Christian was right—they do care about me very much. For the most part, they were very understanding and concerned about my health and well-being. A couple of them had impromptu sessions over the phone about things that had concerned them or accomplishments over the last week. It was the least that I could do after canceling on them.

Marilyn emailed me my messages—several from Melanie asking for one last visit. Yeah, when hell freezes over, Bitch. There's one from Kate saying that she is finally stateside again and would like to get together for lunch one day when I'm free. Hmm... Kate. Katherine Kavanaugh... I'm not really sure how to handle that. Your ex-fiance and my brother's boyfriend was briefly one of my patients and is now head over heels in love with one of my closest friends. How do we possibly have _that_ conversation?

During my talk with Christian yesterday about the Green Valley mob, I have learned that most of them have literally scattered to the four winds. Two connections ended up here although, lucky for him, Everett Billings was telling the truth. From what we could see, he had nothing to do with the attack. Christian told me about how he had intimidated information out of him when he discovered that Everett worked for one of his subsidiaries. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for _that _conversation.

Most importantly, though, he told me about Carly Madison. When I discovered her whereabouts, I let him know that I would be making a trip to see her. He didn't like that news at all.

"_Why would you want to see her?" he asks. "What could she possibly say that you would want to hear?"_

"_It's not what _she_ has to say, Christian. It's what _I_ have to say. After everything that I know, I have something to say to her—and she's going to stand still while I say it. Please don't fight me on this. I'm going to go see her, and eventually I want to see Cody, too. I'm making arrangements to see Carly next week," I say._

"_Arrangements? What kind of arrangements?" he frowns. _

"_Information on how to get to that little town that she lives in and what day I plan on going." He runs his hands through his hair. _

"_How long do you plan on being away?"_

"_Just the day. I doubt that there are any tourist attractions that I want to see there." I comment. He runs his hands through his hair again. Poor Christian. I know that he would do everything in his power to keep me shielded away from all of this shit and these people, but he has to know that he can't. Maxine is right—I haven't dealt with this situation. I've coped with it all of these years, but I haven't dealt with it. It's time to face up to it, deal what blows that I can, and put it behind me. This magnificently beautiful piece of artwork on my back was one step towards that. Now, I need to continue the journey. _

"_I'll have Jason make the arrangements for you. You'll take the jet. You'll rent a car while you're there. You'll take Davenport, Williams, and Lawrence with you." Three? That's ridiculous!_

"_I don't need three bodyguards, Christian. She's only one woman and she doesn't even know that I'm coming! Chuck and I will be fine. I can handle Carly and I'm sure Chuck can handle anything else that arises. Unless we're walking into 'Deliverance,' we'll be fine." He throws a glare at me. _

"_That's just it! We don't know if you're walking into 'Deliverance!' I'm not taking any chances!" he nearly shouts. I can hear it. I have put my foot down and told him that I'm going no matter what, and he has lost control of the situation. I can tell he wants to put his foot down on this, too. _

"_I'm not stupid, Christian," I say softly, reassuring. "If I or Chuck sees or thinks that we are walking into a bad situation, I won't play Wonder Woman. I'll turn around and leave. I promise." His gaze softens slightly. "I want to make the trip next Thursday. I want to leave that morning and be back that evening. That gives you plenty of time to check things out and make whatever arrangements that need to be made for my safety, but I think three bodyguards are a bit much." He examines me and I see the wheels of compromise turning in his head. _

"_Two. Davenport and Lawrence. That's my final offer—and I don't care if you're walking into a church meeting. Take it or leave it or I'm going with you." Oh, no. I can't have him coming, too. Christian Grey in El Nido? There will be choppers flying overhead! _

"_Okay, two," I relent. I see the disappointment on his face and I know it's because I didn't agree to him coming with me. "I have to do this on my own, Baby," I continue. "I know that you can solve most of my issues with a wave of your magic Grey wand. I also know that you would do that in a heartbeat for me and I love you for that, but this is a beast that we know has to be killed in several steps and this is the first of many that I have to take alone." His glare goes from intense to sad. _

"_I just don't want anything to happen to you," he says, his gaze pleading. _

"_I promise you that I'll be careful. We will keep you updated from the moment that we land, and I'll make a hasty retreat the second something looks dangerous." I put my hand on his cheek. "Nothing is going to happen to me. I need you to trust me." His whole body drops and I know that I have won him over... begrudgingly._

"_Okay."_

So now, I am reviewing the itinerary for next Thursday. I have already rescheduled my Thursday patients since none of them missed their appointments last week and won't miss them this week. The GEH jet will take off from Sea-Tac at 6:00am on Thursday morning and land in San Jose, CA, at 8:01am. From there, Christian has arranged for a car—bulletproof and all—for us to drive from San Jose to a little town called El Nido two hours away. That doesn't really make me happy. Two hours of plane travel and then two more hours of car travel—good grief! Either her ex was trying to hide her away somewhere or _she_ was trying to hide because she is really in the middle of nowhere.

There is an airport in Merced which is 18 miles away from El Nido, but it's harder for larger aircraft to fly into it. All of the arrangements that could be made involved landing at one of the larger airports and then flying a propeller plane into Merced. So they could fly the jet to LAX or San Jose, but then they would have to get the propeller plane which would be 1.5 hours from LAX but closer to San Jose. Oh, but wait—can't get a car. Even though the car rental agencies at the airport in Merced are major corporations, these particular locations didn't have cars available that met Mr. Grey's standards. So much for flying into Merced.

Nonetheless, with all of the travel time, I am my two bodyguards will be in El Nido between the 10:00 and 11:00 AM. I will then have my little "chat" with the now named Carly Madison-Perry, and be back at the San Jose airport no later than 6:00pm to be back in Seattle and in bed with my man no later that 9:30 that evening. We left plenty of time just in case I had to locate the estranged Mrs. Madison-Perry somewhere in town.

I'm looking at a recent picture of her. She certainly looks older, but then again so do I. Over a decade has passed, after all. She's still sporting her natural hair color, but she wears way too much make-up. She has two children—three years and 18 months old—and she is in the process of a pretty nasty divorce and custody battle as her husband left her about a year ago. I'd sure like to know the details of _that_ split, but neither of them are in the public eye. Without an inside line, all we get to know is that they are splitting up and her estranged husband is living somewhere happily with another woman while the once very-privileged Carly Madison-Perry is now working for less than minimum wage as a waitress in a small restaurant.

I look up and realize that the time has gotten away from me and it is dark outside. A glance at my watch shows that it is 7:13pm! No wonder I'm so damn hungry! I turn off my laptop and the light in my office and descend the stairs to Christian's study.

"Well, I guess there's nothing we can do right now, but I want you to keep looking. Another admirer, I can handle—I mean, look at her—but Ana says this guy gives her the creeps and I seriously have to trust her instincts as well as my own." He's talking about Ginger Creepy Guy. What have they found—or not found—on him? "Okay. I'll be in the office tomorrow. Have the projections on the Burma project ready for me then." What's going on in Burma? Christian ends the call and looks up at me. "Hey. How long have you been standing there?" Hmm...

"Long enough to know that you were on the phone with security and wondering what's going on in Burma that requires their projections," I say, folding my arms and leaning against the door frame. "Is everything okay?"

"Well, you are partially correct." He spins his chair around to face me. "I was on the phone with two people—Welch and Ros. Welch isn't finding anything tangible on Millfeld and that doesn't make me happy. When it comes to my instincts about someone, where there's no smoke, there's backdraft. I don't want this shit blowing up in our faces when it's too late for us to realize something was going on."

"So there's nothing suspicious on him at all?" I ask. Christian shakes his head.

"All of his references check out. He's been doing this kind of work for the last several years. He graduated high school in Tacoma and did a couple of years at community college. For all intent and purposes, he's harmless." Christian shrugs. I shake my head.

"Maybe that's all it is, Christian," I walk into the study and hoist myself up on his desk, crossing my legs. "I call him 'Ginger Creepy Guy.' Maybe he's just creepy," I say with an uncertain shrug. Christian shakes his head this time.

"It could be my killer instinct when it comes to you," he says with a little mirth, "but I just want to be certain that this guy doesn't pose any kind of threat. He's working for my family after all." He rises out of his chair and stands in front of me. "You look absolutely edible sitting on my desk in this dress," he says while stroking my shoulders and my arms. I smile at him.

"Mmm, well, that grumble in your stomach is because we have both been working a little too long. It's nearly 7:30 and we need sustenance, Mr. Grey." He checks his watch.

"Hmm, so it is. Well, let's go and get that meal, shall we?" He kisses me chastely on the lips before lifting me off of the desk and placing my feet on the floor. Taking my hand, he leads me out of his office to the kitchen in search of dinner.

* * *

Mandy and I meet up for dinner the next evening to bang out the major details for the wedding. I tell her what my dad has told me about his wishes and, ironically, both of them seem to feel the same way—they only want the other to be happy. Mandy has absolutely no problem with Budweiser and Motown as long as she can get a mix of pop, rock, and R&B from the last 15 years. This is going to be one eclectic reception!

Dad didn't care one way or the other about the decorations, but Mandy is a Christmas soul. She didn't want the place exploding with Santa hats and elf shoes, but she was very open to the whole "Silver Bells" concept. Our biggest problem was that every time we looked at décor ideas or talked to a planner or decorator for suggestions over the proceeding days, everybody wanted to stick huge bare branches in the décor! Up the aisle, near the makeshift altar, as centerpieces... no matter how we protested, they all declared that it is not a winter wedding without the branches. Granted, we know that bare trees are indicative of winter, but read my lips... WE DON'T WANT THE DAMN TREES!

We had to have everyone that we spoke to sign an NDA before we would even consider speaking to them. We settled on one decorator that assured us that she could do the job only to have said decorator, once again, try to shove trees down Mandy's throat! I look over at Mandy who is repeatedly trying to tell this woman that trees are not on her agenda. Daisy Decorator over here can't hear her! We are at the 11th hour now, with only a couple of weeks left before the wedding. We have been to several boutiques to try to find Mandy a party/wedding dress with no luck. By now, Mandy is starting to get very discouraged and stressed out and I have had enough!

Snotty little boutique owners who are telling us that it is impossible to get her a dress...  
Snobby decorators who insist that we have to have trees when we don't want them...  
Elitist bakeries who can't seem to get the flavor of the cake right...

I have had enough!

Yes, I know that this is short notice, but I now realize that we are going about this all wrong. Mandy has started to tear up and I reach in my purse and hand her a tissue.

"Come on, we're leaving," I say in the middle of one of the disastrous consultations. I grab Mandy's hand and proceed to stand.

"But wait!" Daisy Decorator protests. "We only want what's going to look best for the young lady. If you would just trust me and defer to my expertise..."

"No! Stop right there," I say, effectively silencing "Miss Daisy." "This beautiful young woman..." I begin, gesturing towards Mandy, "is about to get married. We only have a couple of weeks to make this happen, and yes, we want it to be as perfect as it can be on such short notice. Since we don't have a lot of time, we are trying to get as close as possible to her vision. For that reason, you can imagine that she's a little stressed. I may have failed to mention that this woman is about to become my stepmother, and she's currently carrying my little brother or sister. Having said that, I'm sure that you can understand why I don't want her stressed!" I bark and growl the last few words, causing Daisy to sink in her chair a bit.

"Please take note that I will not allow you to stress her out or try to shove something down her throat or force an idea upon her that she doesn't want! I certainly will not allow you to bring her to tears as the only tears that I expect for her to be crying between now and her wedding day are happy tears! So allow me to make myself clear. She is going to tell you what _she_ wants. You are going to tell her if you can do it. If you have _any _problem with that or you cannot fulfill her requests, we will leave and I'm sure that we will find someone somewhere who can do what we need and if not, we'll do it ourselves! Is there anything unclear about what I just said?" I stand protectively in front of a still-seated Mandy whose tears have stopped flowing. My hands are on my hips and I am waiting for Daisy Decorator to answer my question.

"No ma'am," she says softly, duly chastised. "You were perfectly clear. I'm sure that we can accommodate Ms. Herring's wishes." I hear Mandy breathe a huge sigh of relief behind me.

"I'm very glad to hear that," I say, taking my seat again. I squeeze Mandy's hand and look at her questioning. She smiles and nods, mouthing a "thank you" at me. I return her smile and turn back to "Miss Daisy" daring her to cross my soon-to-be-stepmother one more time. Just like I thought, we got the perfect decorations for the wedding/party.

With one crisis averted, I can now concentrate on the next crisis that requires my attention... confronting Carly Madison-Perry.

I think Thursday came much too soon for Mr. Christian Grey. Five days before Christmas and he is sulking around like the Grinch. He has seen Dr. Baker once already this week and has informed me that he will be seeing her again today. I almost canceled my trip, but I knew that it would be counterproductive on so many levels if I did.

"I'll call you the moment that we land, okay?" I say, trying to placate him before I get out of the SUV.

"Okay," he says, never looking up at my eyes, but studying my hands intensely as he gently strokes my fingers.

"Will you be okay?" I ask him. This is the first time that I've gone over state lines without him since we've been together. He's gone without me, but never the other way around.

"I'll be fine," he says, still never making eye-contact with me. "You had better leave, or I won't be able to let you go." He kisses my hand gently several times. I open the door because I know that's the best he can do right now. I slowly slide my hand from his.

"As soon as I land," I say again. He nods.

"Be careful. I love you," he says softly.

"I love you, too, Christian." I close the door, a bit crestfallen because he didn't kiss me and wouldn't look at me. I turn and walk towards the jet. "Let's get this shit over and done!" I snap at no one in particular.

* * *

As promised, I call Christian the moment that I land. He sounds more in control as we speak on the phone. I assume it's because he's at GEH—and he shows no signs of weakness at GEH. A black Cadillac Escalade with tinted windows is waiting for us when we arrive. During the two-hour drive to our destination, I finalize the menu with the caterer for Dad and Mandy's wedding and approve the flowers and the cake. I send an email to Mandy that the dress she wanted is waiting for her final fitting at Kiko House of Couture. Kiko could make her something very dramatic, but Mandy chose simple and flowy...and easy to dance in. She could have bought a dress off the rack, but she wanted something special just for her. I so understand that.

We don't have time for a bridal shower for Mandy since things are happening so quickly, but I can't forget that I am not only Mandy's planner/helper, but also Maxine's maid of honor. I'm reviewing the designs for the invitations to Maxie's bridal shower when Chuck tells me that we are approaching El Nido. I quickly review the designs on my iPad then forward it to Maxine for approval. She returned the mark-up for the wedding invitations, but that will have to wait.

Christian was right. I had no idea what I was walking into... or _riding_ into. El Nido is not a city. It's more like this little patch of land stuck in the middle of Merced County. It reminds me of the Island of Misfit Toys. The whole town is a little over three square miles, and there couldn't be more than 200 or 300 people living there... and I thought Anguilla was small! It has a volunteer fire department and an elementary school but no high school. Was that a general store I just saw!? What is this,_ Little House On the Prairie_!?

"Are you sure we're in the right place?" I ask Chuck.

"Yes, we are, Ana. This is El Nido," he responds. At first, we were passing beautiful green fields and sparsely placed houses with nice lawns sitting on huge plots of land.

Then I blinked.

Now the fields look barren, dusty, or dead with a house every now and again, not so well manicured. My ultimate shock came when the Escalade took a turn off of the main street into a mobile home park.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" I say aloud. Chuck shakes his head. "You knew this all along, didn't you?" I ask and he nods.

"I very rarely go into a situation without advance notice of what I'm walking into," Chuck informs me.

"Well, why didn't someone tell _me_?" I squeal. He looks at me in the rearview mirror.

"I thought you knew!" he states, more than a bit surprised. The area is clean, neat, and quiet. The Escalade stops in front of a dilapidated-looking mobile home. Most of the homes in the park range from "decently kept" to "pretty run down." This was one of the pretty run down ones. Chuck puts the vehicle in "park" and he and Ben get out. Ben opens the door and I exit the car. Chuck stands next to me while I examine my surroundings. A few people have quietly come out onto their stoops or into their yards, no doubt to see who is visiting in the big, black truck. I point to the house, questioning and Chuck nods.

"No wonder Christian is shitting bricks," I say to myself. I look over at Chuck. "Are you coming with me?"

"Mr. Grey told me not to let you out of my sight," he confesses. I nod.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." I straighten my jacket and walk up to the stairs. This is one of the few mobile homes that has a porch.

"Let me, Ana," Chuck says, and I step behind him. He hides me with ease as he knocks on the door and awaits a response. A few seconds later, the door creaks open.

"Yes?" That's her voice. It hasn't changed at all. Notwithstanding the fact that I heard it just a couple of weeks ago on that damn video, I never would have forgotten it from hearing on that fateful day over 11 years ago. Hatred and ire boil up in my system the moment the sound tortures my ears and I pull strength from the animosity I feel towards this human being... if you can call her that.

"Carly Madison-Perry?" Chuck asks.

"Yes. Who wants to know?" she replies. Chuck steps away and I come face-to-face with the cruel bitch that tortured me and turned my life upside down.

"Hello, Carly," I greet her, my voice arctic cold. She examines me for several seconds before realization dawns.

"Anastasia Steele," she responds, her voice laced with uncertainty, disbelief, and more than a little ire. "What brings you to these parts?"

"Oh, I'm sure you know," I say. "I just wanted to see how the years have been treating you." I conspicuously look around at the house and neighborhood. "How _has _life been treating you?" Not to be daunted, Carly folds her arms and leans against the frame of her door.

"Oh, don't worry about me," she says with a smirk. "I do well enough." Either she's delusional or clearly resigned to her fate. No husband, two kids, and living in a trailer park in a town that's not large enough for a high school... talk about just desserts.

"So I see," I say sarcastically, looking over the house again. "My, how the mighty have fallen," I say under my breath but loud enough for her to hear.

"What do you want?" she spits. I have to admire the fact that she won't take down, but that's about to end. No use beating around the bush, right?

"What do you hear from your cousin these days? You know... Melanie?" I ask her. Her expression falls.

"What do you know about my cousin?" she asks me.

"Quite a bit," I respond impassively. "I know that she lives in Seattle now and that she's dying of cancer. I know that she went to a young psychologist for help in letting go of her demons so that she could die in peace. I know that she had a lot to confess to clear her heart, mind, and soul of her past demons. Is any of this ringing any bells with you, Madison?" She straightens her back and glares at me.

"What are you getting at, _Homely_?" She spit the nickname as if it was supposed to reduce me to the same squirming little girl that I was in high school.

"Oh my God, seriously?" I say, breaking out in uncontrollable laughter at her audacity right now. Her face falls almost immediately. I've heard of delusional but this is ridiculous. "Let's review, shall we?" I'm never one to flaunt what I have, but this time, I'm flaunting! "I am standing here on your trailer park porch wearing an Alexander McQueen career suit, Christian Louboutin silk shoes, and Cartier jewelry. My haircut probably cost more than you make in a week. Right now, you couldn't even afford my moisturizer. Despite what you did to me, I'm a natural beauty and I know it, and you have the nerve to call me 'homely?'" Again, silence. "I wake up every day with a beautiful penthouse view of Puget Sound and Elliot Bay. You wake up every morning with a beautiful view of..." I look around at our surroundings, "...the trailer across the street. Be careful, Carly, because I'm not the same girl that you beat up in high school!"

"I don't have to stand here and listen to this!" she spit trying to close the door.

"Oh, YES! You DO!" I yell before she can get the door closed. "You're dying to know why I'm here, and you _should _be... _dying, _that is, but at the very least, dying to know." That piqued her curiosity.

"What the fuck is this about? I don't know what the fuck you want. My dad is dead and I can't give you any money, so what the hell do you want from me?" I want blood, Bitch. I want to see you beg and plead and squirm just like I did, but in the absence of that, I'll take what's left of your miserable existence.

"Oh, so that's the story that you're going with these days? Daddy's dead? Nice try, Princess." My voice is dripping with cynicism and sarcasm.

"So now you're going to disparage my father's memory?" she says, horrified. Boy, she is playing this role to the fullest... or is this her way of coping with her exile? Has she really convinced herself that her father is dead so that she doesn't have to face the fact that he's letting her rot in her own vomit? Oh, this is even better than I thought.

"Daddy was really pleased with your actions that night, wasn't he, Carly?" I ask impassively. "Police and the crime lab crawling all over his property trying to find out why this young girl was brutalized so badly on his ranch. You thought I would go away, didn't you? For over 10 years, I did, but guess what? Now, I'm back, and I'm about to be your worse nightmare... a woman with money, resources, and a _bone to pick with you!" _She is trying not to show her fear, but I've got her on the ropes now.

"While you're sitting on your low-horse, let me tell you what I know. I know that Daddy didn't die—he cut you off. Once he put together what happened on his ranch and that you were the ringleader, he sent your ass off to school and then to college. Instead of taking that opportunity to do something with yourself, you partied away Daddy's allowance and flunked out of college. So Daddy cut you off. That's when you sent word back to your low-down, dirty, rapist boyfriend that you wanted to get married." Her eyes narrow at my description of Cody, but I just keep going. I'm on a roll now. "Your problem was that his rich, entitled ass didn't want to marry you, so you came up with a plan that you thought would ensure that he would... something about a little _video_ that no one knew was floating around?"

Now, Carly has turned completely white—whiter than any white that I have ever seen before in my life. Yeah, Bitch, I know about the video. I've _got_ the video.

"So, you decide to use your little bargaining chip and blackmail young Mr. Whitmore into marrying you. What you didn't expect was for him to have some balls and call you on your shit. He pushed your hand in the worst way by running off right before your wedding and leaving you standing at the altar in what was supposed to be one of the most famous social events of the Valley... and it was, because everybody in the Valley got to see you get jilted.

"After that display of humiliation, the rapist contacted you and challenged you to go public with your information. Not only would it make you look like the ultimate woman scorned, but in addition, you were so busy trying to blackmail _Whitshit_ that you completely forgot that you were in the video, too! And you were doing more than _he _was, and you would more easily be convicted for what you did to me than he would. He hit me, but you burned me. After I lay there unconscious, nearly dead, my baby dead, you kept going. You were the fucking ringleader and as much as you used that video to protect your ass, you knew that it could bury you just as well."

She truly looks like she's going to be sick. Yes, I survived—a living, breathing reminder of what you did that night. Looking in her eyes, I got my answer to one crucial question. Just like me, she lived that night over and over again, only she was constantly looking over her shoulder and waiting for someone to come and get her and make her pay for her crimes. Well, Mrs. Madison-Perry, that day has arrived.

"By now you realize I have the video," I say, coolly, "and I just wanted you to know that I'm about to turn it over to the Nevada Attorney General. In case you haven't already been informed, George Sullivan has been arrested for not performing the investigation properly and hiding evidence—which now, it's only too clear to me why he did it, since his little brother Vincent is the kid wielding the first two branding irons." The more points I bring to her attention, the more fear I see creeping up on her face. "I'm going to go to Nevada and identify every person on that video, so that if there is anything that can be done to you worthless sacks of shit—you inhuman balls of flesh—for what you did to me, it can be done!"

For some reason, that statement brought the color back to her face.

"So what do you think they're going to do about it? It's too late to do anything. The statute on beating your ass has surely run out," she says in a cocky, self-assured manner.

"That's where you're wrong. You murdered my baby... _Cody's _baby. There is no statute of limitations on murder!" I spit... and the color in her face is gone again.

"My father won't let you do this to me. He's a very powerful man in the Valley," she says, still grasping at straws.

"Well, there's two problems with that," I say. "First, Daddums cut you off. I'm only too sure that he's willing to let you take this fall on your own. Second, did I tell you that they are investigating Whitshit Sr.? Yeah, he's had several shading dealings in his career, one of which involved bribing my parents into not investigating your little bonfire party that night. As a result, the AG is investigating the sources of many of the fortunes of Green Valley's elite. Ten will get you 20 that when they are done turning over those rocks, they'll find your Daddy!" She knows that I'm right, and since she has no other straws to grasp, she throws a personal shot.

"You always wanted to be me," she seethes. "You couldn't stand that I was popular and beautiful. Everybody loved me and they despised you. They were only too anxious and jumped at the chance to teach your poor, poser ass a lesson! You couldn't be me, you couldn't have what I had, so you seduced my boyfriend then tried to blackmail his family. When that didn't work, you found out that you were pregnant with his baby and you were going to use that, but we beat you to the punch... literally," she says with a devilish grin. Is she serious? Is she still acting like she has the upper hand in this situation? This has to be a joke!

"How foolish can you be?" I ask her incredulously. "What's left of your very life is falling apart in your face and you want to take shots at me? Let me make something very clear—I _never _wanted to be you! You are wicked and nasty and evil and mean! You are dirty and rotten to your ever-hating core! Why would I ever want to be _that_ person? I grew up, left that cesspool that you call 'home,' went back to my _real_ home and became a doctor. I made wonderful friends and my own money and now, a billionaire is in love with me! I never needed to be you. I fantastically leaped over every accomplishment you could have ever hoped to achieve... and my best years are still ahead of me. Can you say the same? Where in your small little brain could you have possibly come to the conclusion that I wanted to be you? I never wanted to be you! I never _needed_ to be you... but I bet right now, you want to be _me!_" Her stunned silence was answer enough, but there was one more blow that I had to deliver.

"You truly never believed Cody raped me," I begin, my voice controlled. "He really had you believing that the hot poor girl seduced him, and honestly, right now, if I _were_ you, I would take great joy in telling you that I seduced your boyfriend and as a result, I'm about to take the whole town down—but I'm not going to do that, because that's not the truth. Right now, when I could tell you any story that I wanted and not give a fuck about how you felt about it, I'm going to tell you the truth. Cody. Raped. Me. He said he was going to give me a ride home, and when I got into his jeep, he took me to the desert and he raped me. I was a virgin, and I begged and screamed for him to stop, but he didn't. He ripped my virginity from me, a gift that should have gone to someone that I loved. He stole it from me and then he lied to save his own ass. Nobody believed me, not even my own stepfather. On top of all of that, you reaped revenge on me because your boyfriend was a fucking rapist!" My eyes narrow as I tell the story and I can see that she is finally accepting it as truth.

"Did beating me up - an innocent victim in all of this - help you convince yourself that your perfect little world wasn't falling apart? That your sick boyfriend wasn't a fucking rapist victimizing a girl who wouldn't readily fuck his arrogant, cocky ass?" Her mouth is moving but nothing is coming out.

"I would have gladly walked away from Green Valley," I continue, "Turned my back on all of you self-absorbed fuckers and never looked back, but you assured that would not happen. That day when you left me with a permanent reminder that I lived among a bunch of cruel and heartless brats, you sealed your fate and that of everyone there that night. So you believe whatever the fuck you want to believe from this point forward, but rest comfortably in the knowledge that you almost killed me and did kill a helpless child to protect the lies of a rapist. While you're at it, think about how many other girls that he's done this to—that said that he forced sex on them and no one believed them, or maybe they were paid off like my parents were—because I know that I wasn't the first and I most likely wasn't the last."

A look of realization comes over her face and I immediately know that I'm right about that statement. Not only am I right, but she personally knows of some others.

"Yeah, think about that. You sacrificed yourself, your life, and very soon your freedom for a rapist motherfucker that eventually let you rot in a trailer park in rural California. Let that settle in for a while."

There's nothing left here for me. I've done what I came to do. I roll my eyes at her, turn around and walk back to the car with Chuck right behind me. Ben ceremoniously opens the back door of the black Escalade that we rented for our one-day trip to El Nido, California. I step inside like the First Lady of the United States and let Ben close the door behind me. They walk to either side of the SUV in pure CIA fashion and get inside. I watch through the tinted windows as Carly and several of her neighbors observe the ceremony of the whole situation as I and my bodyguards leave the trailer park.

"How quickly can the jet be ready? I need to get the hell out of here right now!" I declare.

"The jet has been on standby the entire time. I will let them know that we will be ready the moment we arrive back at SJC," Chuck assures me.

"Good." I sink back comfortably in the leather seats and text Christian:

_****It's over. I'm on my way home, Baby. ****_

His response is almost immediate.

****Good. I can't wait for you to be in my arms. I'll see you when you get here. ****

* * *

It's nearly 6pm when I get back to Escala and I am so glad to be home. I napped and ate on the jet on the way, but there is nothing like being back here in the apartment. Confronting Carly took more out of me than I thought. I was very happy to look her in her eye and show her how we had so drastically switched social standings—although I don't think I have ever been in the station in which she now finds herself. What was more satisfying—and draining—was confronting her about what she did to me; letting her know that her just rewards were right around the corner; and showing her that after all was said and done, she didn't break me. I can put that chapter to rest for now and I will ask Christian to make arrangements for us to go to Nevada after the holidays to turn over the video and put this thing to rest.

I peel off my clothes and shoes and sink happily into a citrus-lemongrass bubble bath. I needed "old faithful" after the day I've had. I still can't believe that Carly tried to one-up me after everything that has happened. She reminds me of the picture of the frog choking the stork as he is being swallowed. What they fail to tell you about this picture is that as admirable as the message may be—"don't ever give up"—the frog's face is buried in the back of the stork's throat. So even though the stork can't swallow the frog—yet—neither of them can breathe. I'm not too sure who would survive the longest without air, but one good "chomp" of that stork's beak and that frog is history! This is one "stork" who can chew while I'm holding my breath.

Several minutes later, I step out of the bath and wrap a towel around my body. I walk into the bedroom to pick up my clothes, only they're not there anymore. Hmm... did I put them away? Gail... it had to be Gail. I opt for a pair of yoga pants and one of Christian's already-worn linen shirts. I need the comfort of my man and at nearly seven, he's still not home. I walk into the kitchen to see what's prepared and, upon finding nothing—and no Gail—I look for light food. I know that Christian will be home soon and I'm not really hungry, but he might be. I pull a salad out of the refrigerator and turn around only to almost drop the salad on the floor.

Christian is standing on the other side of the breakfast bar examining me. He has not said a word; he just stands there. His eyes are hooded and he looks almost menacing. What's more disturbing is what he is wearing... a plain white T-shirt and his Playroom jeans.

Holy. Cow. Batman.

I blink and swallow hard. Where did he come from? Why is he standing there staring at me wearing his playroom jeans?

"Are you hungry?" he says, his voice a deep grumble that rocks my soul. If I was hungry, I'm not anymore.

"I... thought you might be." I could barely get the words out of my mouth. He walks around the breakfast bar and takes the salad bowl from my hand.

"I'm famished," he says, putting the salad bowl on the counter behind him, "but not for food." I'm afraid...

"Are you... angry with me?" I can't read his demeanor. I don't know what I'm dealing with right now. He closes the space between us.

"Oh, no, Baby," he says brushing his lips against mine. "Not at all, but I need you... and I want to play." He kisses me gently. "Do you want to play?"

I am so nervous. I remember what he was like before I boarded the jet. I don't know if his behavior was some sort of control mechanism or what, but I didn't like it. Now, he's creeping around the apartment and sneaking up on me without warning, wearing his playroom gear. No doubt, he's the one who picked up my clothes from the bedroom floor. No, I don't want to play. I'm afraid of who will be in the playroom with me.

"Christian..." I can hear the fear in my own voice. He puts his hand on my cheek and his forehead to mine, his other hand securing my hip.

"I won't hurt you... or be cruel... I promise." His Dom voice is there, but just above a whisper. This is my Dom... and my man. I have to trust him even though I am still afraid. I close my eyes and take the leap.

"Okay."

* * *

_**GREY**_

I take her hand and lead her up the stairs to the playroom. She gasps when she opens the door. There are candles on nearly every surface. She knows this is odd for the playroom, but tonight is very different. Yes, I _must_ regain some of the control that I lost today when she went to El Nido without me, but we haven't been in the playroom for months, and I don't want this to be an experience where she won't want to come in here again. I pull her inside the room and close the door behind her. I can feel her demeanor change, her breath quicken, and I'm not even touching her anymore.

"Take off your pants," I command her. With her back to me, she pulls down her yoga pants and steps out of them.

"Turn around." She turns to face me, her eyes to the ground. I step closer to her and begin to unbutton the linen shirt she has commandeered from my cleaning. When my task is complete, I brush the back of my fingers over the inside of her exposed breast. She gasps at my touch. Oh yes, Baby. This is going to be so much fun. I push the shirt off of her shoulder and it falls to the floor. She stands before me, naked and beautiful, and I can hardly contain myself—but I miss this. I miss the Dom and his submissive, and I need it tonight.

"Lie on the bed, face up." She obediently walks over to the four poster bed. I have had it made with 1500 thread count Egyptian sheets—thick like canvas and smooth as satin. I hear Butterfly exhale at the feel of them. I want to try some things tonight, things that will cross her pleasure with her pain and require that she surrender herself to me and trust me completely. I need it. I tried to pretend that I didn't, but I do. This will be an experiment for us both. I reach under the bed and pull out lengths of natural filament rope. It will chafe a bit, but I want to try it. Butterfly's eyes widen when she sees it.

"I am your Dom," I say to her frightened eyes. "Your pleasure and your pain belong to me. Do you trust me?" She takes a deep, calming breath and lets it out.

"Yes Sir," she relents.

"Good." With the first length of rope, I secure her right wrist to the frame of the bed, and then her left. She is laid out with her arms spread straight out in a "T." I can tell that she is still afraid and she involuntarily whimpers a bit. I don't like that she is afraid, but I am drunk with the fact that even in her fear she is choosing to trust me. I take a third length of rope and attach it to her knee. I pull her leg in almost a perfect L to her body and secure her right leg to the frame as well. I repeat the process with her left leg, but when I pull her legs almost to a split, she gasps in discomfort.

"Too far?" I ask softly. Tentatively, she nods. I adjust the rope and her position so that it is still firm but not painful, and she instantly relaxes. Next, I secure her ankles with the rope, effectively immobilizing her. I discreetly place a straight razor on the nightstand in case the need arises to quickly release her bonds. Then I step back and admire my handiwork.

She is bound to the bed, unable to move in any direction, her arms stretched out to either side of her and her legs spread wide, bearing that beautiful, wet flower to me. Her chest is rising and falling frantically as she tries to anticipate what I'm going to do to her. Oh yes, Baby. You will suffer exquisite limits tonight, and you will love it!

I walk to the top of the bed and splay her hair out over the sheets before plunging her into darkness with a blindfold. I lean down to her so that my breath is right in her ear.

"You will have a buffet of sensations tonight, Ms. Steele. I will push you to the limits of pleasure and take you over the edge many times. You only need one safeword..." She pauses for a moment. Her breathing heavy and erratic, but she knows the safeword that I am seeking.

"Ladybug," she breathes just above a whisper. Good. She understands.

"Yes. Ladybug," I whisper in her ear again before pulling the lobe into my mouth and biting gently. She gasps again.

"You may moan, Ms. Steele. You may make sounds, but you may not speak," I warn. "Do you understand?"

"Yes Sir," she says softly. I kiss her on her stomach and feel her body shiver.

"And... you may come." Many times, I think to myself.

"Yes Sir," she breathes.

* * *

_**A/N: A while back, I assumed that everyone knew what the pool game "Marco Polo" was and had one or two people come at me quite angrily because they didn't know what it was. In light of that, here are some notes that I thought might have been obvious, but I won't make that assumption again. **_

_**Ana and Christian reference walking into "Deliverance." This is an old movie where city slickers go white water rafting in the back country and end up encountering some very dangerous and weird locals and have to run for their lives. **_

_**Ana references Christian looking like "The Grinch." This is from a Dr. Seuss tale called "The Grinch Whole Stole Christmas." You can Google it, but think Ebenezer Scrooge only green, hairy, grumpier, and hell bent on an entire town not being able to celebrate Christmas. **_

_**Ana also refers to El Nido reminding her of "The Island of Misfit Toys." This is a part of the story "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer." When Rudolph is ridiculed about his nose and runs away from home, one of the places he visits is the Island of Misfit Toys. It's just what it sounds like - the toys all have issues (i.e. a kite who is afraid of heights) so they all live on this island in exile, so to speak.**_

_**"Little House on the Prairie" was an American series about life in Walnut Grove for a family in the pioneering Midwest in the 19th century. Needless to say, there wasn't a lot of land developed then so houses were acres if not miles apart and there was only one "general store" in town - Olsen's Mercantile - thus Ana's reference to the series while riding through El Nido. **_

_**Pictures of places, cars, fashion, etc can be found at pinterest ladeeceo/mending-dr-steele/**_

_**Shoot me over an email at divinebronzegoddess at gmail . com (no spaces of course and use the "at" sign) to join my mailing list and stay up to date on blogs, publishing of my stories, etc.**_

_**Feel free to review—it is greatly appreciated.**_

_**Love and Handcuffs!  
Lynn x  
**_


	10. You Do Me And I'll Do You

_**Okay, so this chapter would have been posted sooner but apparently Fanfiction thought that we should spend the day with our families instead of posting Christmas surprises for our fans. Having said that...**_

_**BONUS CHAPTER! Merry Christmas!**_

_**All disclaimers apply here...**_

**Chapter 10—You Do Me and I'll Do You**

_**GREY**_

Janet Jackson sings about licking, kissing and sucking as I take Anastasia on a sensual ride in my playroom. Her first orgasm came quite quickly as I pinched and sucked her perfect tits until they were pebbles in my mouth and hands. Touching her nowhere else, I worked her beautiful nipples into painful bliss concentrating my efforts solely on the sensitive nerves there. She tried so hard not to succumb, but her bud is fully exposed and unprotected, meaning that there is no way for her to fight off the pleasure. Not only is it intense, but she must endure it with no relief. It will be excruciating, and she will never forget it.

As she begins to come down from her first orgasm, I immediately go into her next touch sensation. Her whines nearly sound like sobs as I tease her trembling body with feathers—harmless little things, but so powerful when you are unable to move and still shuddering from an orgasm.

This is _my _body, _my _woman. I will do to you as I please.

I slow down and ease up a bit when her breaths become uncontrolled. I want her close, nearly reaching her limits... not going over until I'm ready. Just when she starts to relax, I start with the feathers again. Her stomach muscles flex as she endures the combination of pleasure and discomfort and again, I can't help but gaze in awe at her exquisite beauty, her intimate helplessness. I satisfy my urge to touch her by running my whole hand over and through her beautifully exposed sex—just once. She cries out in pleasure. She sounds like a caged animal crying to be free, and I love it. I love the power and control of holding off her orgasm, then making her come so hard that she wants to cry.

I miss this. I really do.

Once I feel that I have tortured her enough with the feathers, I nestle myself between her legs and follow Janet's instructions:

_I just wanna kiss you suck you taste you ride you make you come too..._

I suck her delicious fruit with abandon. Her flavor and scent spurring me on more and more, her cries of passion pushing me further. My erection is fighting to get free as I watch her struggle uselessly against her restraints.

It's no use, Baby. You belong to me.

I slide my hands underneath her so that each one of them cups a deliciously tightened ass check then bring my thumbs back up to her core—one on each side parting her lips and exposing her delectable, protruding bud. I rub my tongue against her clit—deep and steady. Come, Baby. Come for me again.

She screams as her second orgasm rips through her body. Even in her restraints, I feel her stiffen. She is breathless and panting, and I feel like my manhood is going to explode. I have to have her... just once if I'm going to continue...

I nearly tear off my T-shirt and release myself from my playroom jeans. I climb up to her mouth and drop my balls on her lips.

"Lick!" I command. She sticks her tongue out and, upon recognizing what is in her mouth, hungrily runs her tongue over the surface of my balls. Shit, I love when she does that! I was hoping it would give me some satisfaction... just a little relief from the contact. I don't know what made me think that—it's only spurring me on more. I shift and stick my throbbing cock into her mouth. She sucks me in powerfully, moaning in pleasure making her jaws and throat vibrate against me.

"Aw, fuck!" I gasp, and before I know it, I am fucking her mouth relentlessly. That burning, tugging feeling is rising at the base of my dick and before I can stop myself, I am coming fantastically down her throat. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" My dick won't stop throbbing! Her mouth is so hot and she has worked me into a fucking frenzy just watching her come. It's insanity. I pull my tender, pulsating member from her mouth then kiss her deeply, tasting our juices as they mix in our mouths.

"You are irresistible, Ms. Steele," I growl against her cheek. "I wish you could see what I see... how beautiful you look right now." She is breathing heavily again and sweating profusely. Fuck, she is so aroused that she can hardly stand it. Her nipples are standing at attention and her clit is, once again, pulsing out of her lips. I crawl off of the bed and get our favorite toy—the flogger.

I bring the flogger back to the bed and caress her body with it. Again, once she realizes what it is, she gasps and tries to prepare herself. Ironically, Janet starts to sing about being a bad girl and needing to be punished just I begin to rain blows against Anastasia's body.

"Ah!" she cries out, tortured and sensual. She is pulling on her restraints again but to no avail. After several blows with the flogger, I use my flat fingertips to spank her soaking wet pussy.

"Aaaaahh!" She screeches loudly at the surprise, high and sharp. This is something that I have never done to her before. Again, it is _highly_ arousing! I actually saw her juices splash from her core against the slap! She's going to make me lose my mind.

"Oh, Ms. Steele. I think you like that," I taunt.

"Yes... Sir..." she can hardly breathe through her arousal.

"Shall we do that again?" I almost sing.

"Yes... Please... Sir..." She is gasping now. I strike her once again with my fingertips and I swear she would rip these ropes from the metal frame if she could. She groans deep in her chest and her fists clench as she withstands the agonizing vibrations of the smack.

"Aaahh haa haaaa!" A tortured cry rings from her throat and I continue to punish that pussy, smack after smack after smack. She is wheezing now, animalistic sounds ripping from her delicate lips. I am lost in the floor show, watching her body jerk from the blows as much as the ropes will allow; her mouth hanging open in a silent cry until the next blow rings yet another orgasm from her. As I watch her come again, I strike her pussy softer and faster, continuous rhythm to draw out her orgasm, and she speaks her first transgression.

"Oh my Goooooooooooooooooooooooood!" She cries mindlessly, digging her head into the bed. Again, her body stiffens and stays that way for several moments. I don't stop the rhythm until her body relaxes. Now, her breaths are coming so short that I am afraid she will hyperventilate.

Not yet, Ms. Steele. We haven't done our finale.

I go the en suite and get a cool washcloth. I remove her blindfold and gently wipe her face to cool her. After a few minutes, she is breathing normally... and I manage to snatch her breath away once more.

"You spoke."

Her eyes grow large and she starts to tremble slightly. I take the straight razor and cut the ropes on her ankles, freeing her feet. I then loosen the ropes on her knees just enough to get pillows underneath her hips again. I know she's remembering the directional stroke from last week.

No, Love. This is worse.

"You are about to be punished," I warn. "Why are you being punished, Anastasia?"

"Because I spoke without permission, Sir," she breathes.

"Exactly. You will remember that your mouth is _my_ mouth. Your body is _my_ body. Your pleasure belongs to _me_, and if I tell you not to speak, you. Do. Not. Speak." The words are definite and harsh, and her blue eyes flash a sign of fear again. I thrust myself into her—hard and unforgiving. She jerks away from me, the first time that she is able to move at all the whole night. Her breath catches in her throat and I tell her "Don't come until I tell you to."

Her eyes grow very large and fearful. I've got you now. I thrust and grind into her with exquisite precision, bringing her and myself higher and higher. I won't do to her what I did in Anguilla, but I will bring her to the edge of her sanity. I masterfully thrust into her, grinding against all of her walls and intensifying her pleasure with each stroke. Her eyes close and she is lost in her ecstasy. When I feel the sweat start to form on her skin and see her pert nipples pointing at me again, I reach into the nightstand and retrieve my final instrument of torture.

Anastasia's eyes fly open violently as she hears and feels the wand vibrate against her core. She gasps loudly as she tries to absorb the pleasure of my continuous, rhythmic, deep thrusts and the sensuous deep vibrating stimulation of the wand.

The reaction is immediate—hers _and_ mine. I'm thrust into her and her muscles are squeezing my dick in agonizing pleasure. I can feel the vibration of the wand as well as her wildly contracting muscles. It's insanely intense.

"Oooooooohhhh..." I groan deeply before I realize I have done it. I throw my head back briefly and relish the feeling of being inside her, wanding her delicious, tight, pink pussy and knowing that she won't be able to control her reaction for long. I look down at her helpless, aroused form—sweat glistening off of her beautiful breasts now standing at complete attention.

"No..." she whispers, looking into my eyes, pleading. Oh yes, Baby. You are all mine. How much can you take? How long can you endure before...

"No! NO!" she cries as I push the wand into her clitoris and against my shaft so that I feel it against myself when I withdraw and against her when I am buried inside of her.

"Yes. Ssssss, oh yes!" I groan, and the feeling is intense and magnificent.

"Please! Nooo! Please!" she begs.

"Can you... feel it, Ms... Steele?" I can hardly withstand the pleasure myself. It is fantastic torture. I am certain that she is going insane. "It's exquisite... isn't it...? And I... told you... not... to speak!" I thrust into her hard and deep on every pause, but I am aware that the only way that she _wouldn't_ speak right now is if I gagged her. She whimpers loudly, still begging for mercy and I continue to thrust, my knees nearly buckling under me from the unspeakable pleasure.

"Pleeeease... stooooopp!" she cries.

Oh no, Ms. Steele, I am reaching down into that place where no one is supposed to be. I am dusting out the cobwebs and pulling you out of your hiding place, and when I am through with you, you will be completely and undeniably, wholly and unmistakably, irrevocably and unarguably MINE!

"Please! Oh God, pleeeeease!" she continues to cry. I continue to grind into her mercilessly, filling her over and over again. She's actually getting wetter... as if that's even possible right now. And the heat... oh hell, the heat! Fuck, the vibrations from the wand and the tightness and wetness from her velvety soft core are almost unbearable!

This woman is fantastic and remarkable... and Greystone is cursing me out right now!

"I... I..." Her breaths are shuddering now. I don't think she can take any more. "I ca... I..."

"Come, Baby!" I command her. "Give it to me! Come on, Baby, let me feel you come." I press the wand hard into her core and stroke so deep that even I can barely feel myself moving as the pleasure is so intense and continuous that I can't distinguish the feeling of the stroke. Her chin buries into her chest and her juices burst from her in mad squirts that match her tears as she weeps out an earth-shattering release. Her body quakes and quivers from the inside out and I continue to stroke her until...

"Oh, fucking hell! Fucking shit!" Greystone has a mind of his own and I swear that he has Hulked-up inside of her and is beating violently against her vaginal walls, punishing _me_ for punishing _her_. She is still weeping, shivering, twitching, and coming as Greystone continues to scold me for my insolence. He's inside of her doing a taunting dance as Anastasia and I tremble out crippling orgasms.

_So you thought you were in control, huh? Guess what? You were wrong!  
_Yes, Master. Stop, please!  
_I'll stop if you take that wand off of her.  
_Oh yeah! Shit! What was I thinking?

I turn off the wand and fling it onto the bed. Ana's chest is heaving violently and her head falls helplessly to the bed, her hair drenched in sweat and she is coughing just a bit trying to catch breath.

"Lady... bug... (pant)... (pant)... lady... bug... (pant)... (pant)..."

"Yes, Baby," I respond, grabbing the straight razor and cutting the four remaining ropes with quick precision while still inside her.

"Lady... bug..." she repeats, even though she is free now.

"I know, Baby," I say, taking her in my arms, a little concerned now.

"Lady... bug..." She is catching her breath now, and she tangles her fingers in my hair, pulling my head down so that my lips meet hers in a searing kiss...

* * *

We cuddle in our bed, silent after the playroom session. We are both truly sated, I know, but the continuous safeword has me a bit concerned. I know that she is not asleep and just as I am about to speak, she says, "Why did you want to go to the playroom tonight?" I couldn't speak. I couldn't tell her that I need her to be safe, to do what I tell her to do... even when I know that she's not going to do it. "It was because I went to El Nido, wasn't it?" I sigh heavily.

"I didn't want you to go, but I couldn't stop you," I admit. "Even though you told me every little thing you were doing, agreed to all of my terms and arrangements, I wasn't there. I wasn't there to protect you from the person who orchestrated the worse thing that ever happened to you, and I couldn't stop you from going... and I felt every little bit of control that I held leave my body. When I got to GEH—I can't explain it—I was king of the hill. I had to run my empire and when it comes down to that boardroom, nobody can touch me. The sky can be falling outside of Grey House, but as long as I can go into that building and run that business, all is right with the world. When you texted me and told me that it was over, I couldn't wait to get home to see you. As soon as I left the walls of Grey House, all of my control left again. I went to Dr. Baker and told her the truth about what I was feeling."

"What did she say?" Butterfly asks.

"She said a Dom never stops being a Dom. She says that we may be different people at different times but we never stop being Doms."

"Well, hell, I could have told you that." I look at her in surprise and her gaze matches mine. "Were you _trying_ to stop being a Dom?"

"I think so... a little..." I confess.

"Why?" she almost shrieks. Do I tell her it's because I thought it was stopping me from effectively dealing with my emotions? Do I confess that I buried my feelings behind my dominance as a way to control my emotions or not deal with them at all? I felt that I had to expose myself in order to deal with them... to be ready to ask her to marry me. Now that I'm dealing with them...

"The whole idea is to find a happy medium, _not_ deny who you are," she scolds softly. "Why did we go to that BDSM club if you were going to shut down your Dom completely?" I look at her feeling a little confused.

"I don't... I don't want to shut him down," I finally confess.

"Then don't!" she says, her voice almost beseeching. "You have to control him, but you don't have to shut him down." She puts her hand lovingly on my cheek. "I need him, too." Her voice is almost cracking. That's why she let me take her to the playroom. That's why she trusted me even though I knew that she was afraid. She needed this today as much as I did.

… And it was absolutely perfect.

"I'm glad you safeworded," I tell her, kissing her hands, "although it wasn't like a safeword... it felt different."

"It _was_ different," she said softly, nuzzling her face in my chest. At that moment, I knew that I was right about what I felt. When she used her safeword, she wasn't saying "stop" or "enough." She was saying "thank you." I pull her against me and kiss her hair. She looks up into my eyes. "Sir, I need my Dom as much as my Dom needs me," she adds, her eyes begging me to understand. She didn't have to say anymore. I completely understand... because I need my Domme, too—_and_ my sub.

"I love you, Butterfly," I whisper.

"I adore you, Christian," she responds.

* * *

"Very nice choice, Mr. Grey, and when do you want it to be ready, Mr. Grey?" Marvin asks.

"There's no rush at this moment," I tell him. "I want it to be right, not fast. The other items that I ordered are ready, I assume?"

"Yes, Sir. If you would just follow me to the VIP room..." One thing about Marvin—he knows that every time I come into Cartier, he's about to make a mint of a commission. I had another associate that used to wait on me when I came into this store, but he made the mistake of selling information to the press about my purchases. I asked the store not to fire him because I had a better idea. I made him—and everyone else in the store—sign an NDA. Well, actually, I told the manager that I wouldn't buy from the store again unless they signed an NDA. So I guess I should say that I _persuaded _them to sign an NDA. My only other prerequisite was that Mr. Blabbermouth be present every time I make a purchase from Marvin, which is usually three or four times a year—more since I'm with Butterfly now—and never less than $15,000. Hell, the Love Collection alone was nearly $100,000! I just wanted Sir Loose Lips to see what he was missing. He always turns a lovely shade of chartreuse when I leave the story with my purchases. I'm surprised that he hasn't quit yet. Maybe he's a glutton for punishment.

I've checked over the items that I purchased for Ana, Mia, and Mom for Christmas and thanked Marvin for his assistance once again as I throw a fleeting glance at Press Boy before I leave. Ana and I are meeting at Macy's to review the final items that we have purchased for the Martin family. The children had very modest wish lists as they are so young, while Rashon and Joseph's wishes were mostly functional. They are a young couple—around the same age as Ana and I—with three young children. They just seem to have fallen on a patch of bad luck. Rashon is about 26 years old and had been going on several interviews trying to find work hopefully as a receptionist or assistant while Joseph works two jobs—one for a janitorial service and one in a warehouse—to try to make ends meet. They live in a large house in Rainer Beach, though fairly run down and the bills are starting to be more than they can handle.

I wasn't sure what adopting a family actually involved but my mother says that you basically provide a nice Christmas for a family who otherwise wouldn't be able to do it themselves. Ana had the idea to go and meet the family before we actually did anything and I'm very glad that she did. Joseph is a proud man, but not so proud that he would want to see his family suffer just so that his "manhood" can stay intact. However, he flatly refuses welfare of any sort and Rashon agrees with him on that. They will accept assistance from a food bank or a local church or charity, but they will not take food stamps of federal money as long as Joseph has a job and can provide the basics for them. Luckily, their living situation is secure enough in that they are not facing eviction or homelessness. However, it is becoming difficult to provide for their family.

Ana noticed that their appliances were lacking—just the things that save time and make life easier. So we got them some things for the kitchen—blender, toaster, microwave, mixer—as well as a new washer and dryer as the dryer they have is touch-and-go when it wants to work. In addition to buying the children some much needed clothing, Ana thought it would be a good idea to get Rashon some more business-casual clothing for when she found a position as well as three more interview suits with sensible shoes so that she wouldn't have to wear the same suit over and over again. We also bought some Dickeys pants, shirts, and thermal hoodies as well as work boots for Joseph as a warehouse can get to be pretty cold this time of year.

It's a frigid Saturday afternoon as the SUV's drive down the quiet street in Rainer Beach. You can tell that is one of the less swanky parts of the world, but the residents have clean shoveled walks and driveways as well as nicely trimmed houses, all in the Christmas spirit. You can tell that even though they may not have much, they take care of what they have. Even though I'm wearing jeans and a sweatshirt with hiking boots and a simple winter jacket, I feel a little out of place stepping out of a late model Audi in this neighborhood—almost like a pretentious fuck showing off his wealth. I certainly hope the Martins don't feel that way.

"Ana! Christian! Hi. We didn't expect to see you until Christmas Eve. Come in." Rashon invites us in.

"We thought it would be better if we came by today. This way, you can relax on Christmas Eve and spend that time with your family," Butterfly says sweetly. "I hope we are not intruding."

"Christian! Ana!" Joseph comes into the living room at that moment. "Not at all! Please, come it. Sit down. Let me take your coats."

"Hello, Joseph," I say, shaking his hand firmly before removing my coat. "Thank you."

"Hi, Mr. Christian. Hi, Ms. Ana." Kimberly comes from the same area as her father, a huge smile on her beautiful little mocha-colored face. She is the oldest of the three children and her hair is done in two long, braided pigtails with ribbons at the base and the end. At five years old, she is very motherly and protective of her little brothers. The middle child, Johnathan, clings to his sister's hand while the youngest, Ronald, rests comfortably on her hip.

"Well, hello, Kimberly," I say in my friendliest voice. "I see that you are taking very good care of your brothers today." She giggles softly and her beautiful little blush shows through her cheeks.

"Yes, Sir," she answers sweetly. "I'm helping Momma so she can hang the clothes. The dryer broke again." Rashon almost throws a scolding look at Kimberly for her announcement, but then sinks a little into what looks like embarrassment. Ana puts her hand gently on Rashon's forearm.

"Don't worry," she tells Rashon, "you'll have a new one in the morning." Rashon's eyes grow large. She looks at her husband who is just as stunned as she is.

"Really?" She says looking from me to Ana.

"Yes, really. You have these beautiful children and your husband to care for. You need a working washer and dryer." Rashon almost chokes.

"Washer... _and _dryer?" She's almost in tears.

"Yes, Rashon. Washer _and _dryer." Ana says with a smile.

"I don't... I..." Joseph stands behind his wife and puts his hands lovingly on her shoulders, giving her the strength to speak. "I don't... know how to thank you..." she finally says. Oh boy, she's going to be a blubbering mess by the time the day is over because there is so much more where that came from. Jason, Davenport, and Lawrence are all outside just waiting for our signal.

"Maybe you should sit down..." I say to Rashon before signaling my security team.

* * *

The Martins' modest but beautifully decorated Christmas tree is now bursting with presents for the five of them. Joseph and Rashon allowed the children to open two gifts each and save the rest for Christmas. Rashon has served us some delicious homemade spiced eggnog, and Ana has taken this opportunity to whisk her away to the bedroom to try on some of her suits and work clothing. The children are playing quietly as Joseph takes this time to offer me something a little stronger.

"I'm not much of a drinker, Christian, unless you count the occasional beer—but I do have a little rum that we save for special occasions if you would like to put some in your eggnog." He has actually said exactly what I wanted to hear, and not because I want a drink.

"I'm not much of a drinker either," I confess, "and the eggnog is delicious." I take another sip and set the holiday mug on the coffee table. "You have a beautiful family, Joseph, and you take very good care of them." He nods and his head drops.

"Thank you. I really try. Times are hard and I hate to see her trying to find a job and getting doors slammed in her face. She's getting discouraged and a little depressed." He looks longingly off in the direction that his wife went with Ana. "I promised her more than this, Christian. She's the most wonderful, amazing, beautiful woman in the world. She gave me three beautiful children and I promised her more than this." I can hear the pain in his voice. I can only imagine what it would be like to feel like you can't care for your children and the woman that you love.

"Do you think you have failed, Joseph?" I ask almost incredulously. He doesn't answer. I put my hand on his shoulder. "Far from it, my friend! It's obvious that you love them. You made a wonderful home full of love with what you have. You're working two jobs to provide for your family. Anybody can see that your wife and children adore you and you adore them. You are the definition of success—not money or power or possessions, but what you have here." He nods.

"They're my life, Christian," he says just above a whisper. "They're my whole life."

"I know. I know they are..."

We talk some more and I feel him out, pulling him out of his shell a bit about what he has done and what he can do. His background is mostly in general labor, but he's a young, strong man.

"Listen, I know that you don't take handouts, but I will be honored if you allow me to do something for you," I say. He looks at me with trepidation in his eyes.

"Christian, please. It took everything in me to agree to sign up for Adopt-A-Family. I can't take any more from you," Joseph protests.

"Then you're not going to, but just hear me out. I want you to spend these next few days with your family. I don't want you to go to work at all..." A look of sheer horror comes over his face.

"I can't do that!" He exclaims. "I have to be at both of my jobs between now and Christmas and one of them on Christmas day! I'll lose my jobs!" Wow, they can't even give him Christmas off. That's pretty sad.

"I figured as much. I will pay you for the days that you miss." He starts to protest, but I put up my hand to stop him. "It's not a handout. It's an investment." I take out my phone and snap a picture of his bewildered face. "The day after Christmas, I want you to come to Grey House. Wear some of your new, warm work clothes and be ready to work. We're going to bring these two jobs down to one that will allow you to support your family as well as spend more time with them. We're going to get you some benefits, too. I pay my employees very well, but I pay them well because they work hard and they are loyal. I will confess that I have done a background check on you and your wife, but don't take that personally. I do background checks on anybody that I come in contact with."

I tap out an email to HR and Security about Joseph's pending visit and let them know that I will confirm his hire _in person _to avoid the mishaps that followed the hiring of Lincoln's fucking mole. Heads rolled when that situation came to light and some departments lost employees after the investigation and housekeeping that followed. We won't have that happening again.

"My employees all have to sign a non-disclosure agreement because of the amount of proprietary information that circulates through my company as well as the fact that the press always wants to get some dirt on me. So unfortunately, it's a necessary evil." He has sat there dumbstruck for quite some time before her finally utters one word.

"Why?" I sigh heavily. What do I tell him? I don't feel sorry for him—he honestly has everything he needs even though he has to work so hard for it. His background check shows that he and his wife have both been continuously employed until Rashon got laid off. When she still hadn't found a job once her unemployment compensation ran out, Joseph secured two jobs to cover household expenses. Thinking about his situation, I found my words.

"I admire you," I said, and his eyes grow large. "What you have with Rashon, one day I want to have that with Ana—a beautiful family, a happy home, and a love that withstands any trial. If I can be a part of ending this particular trial for you and your family, I ask that you let me do it. Like I said, it's not a handout. I expect you to work hard and earn your pay—maybe even grow in the company—but when it comes to my business operations, I definitely don't do charity. What do you say?"

Several emotions cross Joseph's face as he finally settles on one. A single tear falls down his cheek.

"Thank you," he squeaks as he extends his hand to me. I give him a firm shake and he sighs a heavy sigh of relief before breaking down into a mound of sobs. Ever the maternal figure, little Kimberly slowly wanders over to her father and puts her hand on his shoulder.

"Daddy?" she says in the softest concerned voice. "What's wrong, Daddy?" Joseph envelopes his daughter into his big arms and sobs into her hair. He's not a bear of a man, but he has the arms and hands of a man who works hard—veins rippling through his mahogany skin as he gently embraces his small daughter. I put my hand on his back just behind his shoulder in an effort to calm him. As Johnathan starts to creep over to his father to investigate the commotion, Ronald sees the tears in his father's eyes and starts to cry as well. This, of course, brings Rashon and Ana out of the bedroom to tend to the crying baby, only to find a man weeping on the sofa. Rashon is horrified, which leads me to believe that Joseph doesn't cry often if ever. She runs to her husband and drops to the floor on her knees in front of him, grasping his face around their daughter.

"Baby! Baby, what's wrong?" she asks him frantically. She looks over at me with big, brown questioning eyes.

"Joseph is going to spend the next few days with you and the kids," I inform her. "On the 26th, he's going to start working for Grey Enterprises so that he doesn't have to work two jobs anymore." Her eyes grow large as she looks from me to her weeping husband and back to me. "I also want you to give me a copy of your resume. I'm sure someone in that big building needs an assistant, and we have childcare and all-day kindergarten on-site if you want to bring the children with you."

She gasps and her hand flies to her mouth as silent tears fall down her cheeks. Butterfly comforts little Ronald who is shuddering a bit in his baby tears and before either of us know what happened, Rashon launches herself at me and throws her arms around my neck, holding me in a crippling embrace.

* * *

_**STEELE**_

He's sitting there with all 10 of his fingers spread out and he can move. He is frozen, a look of utter terror marring his face. She's touching him. She's touching him and he's freaking out. I begin moving towards him.

"Chri-" He quickly put his hand up to silence me. Slowly, he pulls Rashon into an awkward embrace. I am stunned by what I am seeing! I can tell that he is holding his breath, but only a handful of people have been able to hug him in his whole lifetime. Now, he is allowing a stranger to hug him. I know that it is torture for him. I can see it in his face, but Rashon needs this now and he is determined to give it to her.

"Thank you, Christian. Thank you so much. You have no idea what this means to me... to my family..." Rashon gushes.

"Yes, he does," I say softly to Rashon. "That's why he did it." I know that he can't speak right now. He's doing everything that he can not to go into a full-blown panic attack. Rashon pulls out of his embrace and he gives her a soft smile. She squeezes his hand and smiles back.

"You're a good man, Christian, with a good heart," she says, her eyes filled with admiration.

"Thank you," he says softly, his voice sounding almost normal. "Please excuse me for a moment." He could barely get the words out of his mouth before he dashes out of the door. Rashon looks at me as if to ask if she had done something wrong. I hand Ronald to her with a reassuring smile.

"He doesn't like anyone to see him get emotional," I lie. "I'll be right back." She smiles and nods.

I try not to trip over my feet as I scramble out of the door. I'm glad that I wore my Marc Jacobs snow boots because Christian has walked quite a way down the sidewalk with Jason behind him and I have to run to catch them. When I get to them, Christian can barely catch his breath. I grab his wrist and he snatches my arm in immediate defense. He calms the moment he turns around and sees that it's me. He puts my hand to his cheek and begins to take deeper breaths. I put my other hand on his other cheek and start to breathe deeply with him. The air is frigid and it's actually hurting my lungs, but I'll warm up later.

"I'm... sorry..." he says as he begins to calm. I pull his face close to mine.

"You did good!" I say, looking into his frightened white-gray eyes. "You did really good." He nodded quickly.

"I tried. I did. I just..." His words are failing him.

"Baby, don't. Last Christmas, no one could touch you, and now..." I put my hand on his chest and kiss him tenderly. Just like that, my Christian is back. He puts his forehead to mine.

"I love you so much," he says, his voice thick with emotion. I put my arms around his waist and pull him to me, laying my head on his chest.

"I love you more than you will ever know, Christian," I say with my eyes closed, absorbing the warmth from his body. He wraps his arms around me and we stand there in the snow for a moment, just holding one another.

"Now, I want you to come back inside because we're not wearing coats. I'm freezing and I know that you're sweating and I don't want you to catch cold, okay?" I say softly. He nods before kissing me gently two times and allowing me to lead him back to the Martins'.

When we re-enter the house, the children are back on the floor playing with their Christmas gifts while Rashon is nestled in Joseph's lap, comforting him and talking sweetly into his ear. Christian pulls me to him close to him and wraps me in his arms, my back to his front, and nuzzles my hair while we watch this tender exchange.

"He loves her very much," he whispers in my ear. "She is everything to him... her and the children."

"I know," I say. "You can see it in his eyes, and she absolutely adores him. The way that she speaks of him, no one else in the world exists for her."

"I know the feeling," he croons. I turn my head around to look at him over my shoulder.

"So do I," I whisper back as we share a private moment and a gentle kiss in the Martins' small foyer. Christian sighs heavily and brings my hands to lips before escorting me back into the living room.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes upon entering. "I didn't mean to be such a wimp."

"Are you kiddin'?" Joseph asks incredulously. "Did you not just witness this mountain of blubbering sobs?" Joseph laughs at himself and Christian soon joins in. Rashon and I look at each other to confirm that all is now okay with our two "emotional" men.

* * *

"_Right there, Baby. Can you feel it?" Christian is stroking me deliciously as the wand runs up and down my core, from the top of clit all the way down to where he is pounding into my sex. _

"_No... please..." I'm begging, but not for him to stop. I'm begging for him to let me come. Please, Sir... please let me come. The rope is burning into my wrists and at the crease of knees. I know they will leave bruises, but I don't care. The pain mixes with the painful pleasure that is colliding at my core and I can't take much more of this. _

"_Pleeeeeaaaase!" Please, Sir, let me come! I won't have time to safeword. It's too much... it's too good... oh please, Sir. That's when I hear his soul speaking to me..._

_**You are mine. This body... this soul... this mind... all of your pleasure... you belong to me. I will use this body as I please. I will paint masterpieces with your sensations, sculpt priceless works of art into your skin, and create hauntingly beautiful melodies with your cries of pleasure. I will make your soul sing. You. Belong. To. Me. **_

_Yes, Master. I belong to you. I am yours... forever._

"_Come for me, my beloved." My body is mercilessly ripped apart by a powerful orgasm, one that I feel in my fingertips. We float off the bed and my body is nothing but exquisite sensations—wrapped in air and pleasure as my man continues to thrust into me, over and over, drawing my orgasm out longer and longer. _

"_You are mine! You are mine! You are mine!" he chants powerfully on each thrust. Oh, God, yes, I am yours. He is relentless and I know that he won't stop. He wants to be sure that I know... that I am certain..._

_There is no other man for me. _

"_Christian!" I cry out._

I sit straight up in our bed, my body drenched in sweat and my clit throbbing from the intensity of my second nocturnal orgasm since that night in the playroom. What has he done to me? I dream about him loving me intensely. I get lost in thought several times during the day thinking about him touching me. This man has possessed me. I didn't think he could possess me more than he already did, but he has. It's a wonderful feeling, but I still don't want to be all crazy and obsessive and clingy and shit. I have to laugh at myself a bit as I am still trying to catch my breath. This beats dreams about Green Valley any damn day of the week!

Christian is not in bed next to me. I'm kind of glad about that. Wherever he is, he didn't see the wet dream. I would probably never hear the end of it. I get out of bed and go to the shower. It Christmas Eve and I have some plans of my own for this day!

After allowing the hot water to caress my body and hair for several minutes, I get out of the shower and put on an oversized brown and white sweater with festive patterns at the top and a pair of yoga pants. I blow-dry my hair into a sexy, wild, just-been-fucked look and go in search of my man. I find him at the breakfast bar, eating an omelet and reading the paper—typical Christian. I tiptoe behind him and just as I am about to sneak up and kiss him on the neck, he says, "I know you're there."

"Damn it!" I exclaim, smacking him on the shoulder and he laughs at me. I kiss him on the cheek. "I thought Gail and Jason had the day off today."

"They do, but they're still here. Gail offered to fix something for me before they went to visit family for a bit. I never understood the tradition of visiting family on Christmas Eve instead of Christmas."

"Me either," I said going to the kitchen to find myself some breakfast.

"Gail says she will come and fix you some breakfast if you like," Christian informs me.

"She'll do no such thing!" I scold. "It's her day off and she's going to go and see her family."

"...And on that note, we'll be taking our leave," Gail says as she breezes into the kitchen in a lovely Alexander McQueen runway red oversized sweater dress with red legging tights and a pair of Giuseppe Zanotti black suede jeweled grommet booties. That outfit set _somebody _back a pretty penny, and she looks hot!

"Holy cow, Gail!" I exclaim when she fully comes into the kitchen. We embrace warmly. "You are _smokin'!_" She spins around to show off her outfit. "Alexander McQueen?"

"One and the same. My Christmas present from a certain extravagant husband." She is beaming with pride.

"Outstanding!" I confirm. "You look fabulous. So what's on the agenda today?"

"First, we'll be going to spend some time with Sophie..."

"I'm surprised the bitch gave me any time at all with her," Jason snaps, walking into the great room with bags and presents. He's looking rather handsome in a gray wool crew neck sweater and very nice black jeans and heaven help me, I just looked at this man's ass!

"Jason, be nice," Gail says, thankfully bringing my gaze back to her.

"Have you ever met her?" I ask Gail. She sighs.

"No, and I'm not looking forward to it. From what I can tell, she's a real pill," she responds.

"Try not to let it ruin your holiday, okay?" I say, pulling her into another embrace.

"I'll try, considering that after that, we have more judgmental extended family to visit. The highlight of my day with be spending the night at the Heathman with my gorgeous husband. Look at him. Isn't he hot?" she says, gesturing towards Jason. I laugh nervously. I _was _just looking at his ass.

"I'm sorry, Gail. I only have eyes for one," I say sweetly, "although you are looking rather smart today, Jason," I add. There, that was safe.

"Why, thank you, Your Highness," he says with a dramatic bow. I roll my eyes, shake my head and laugh.

"Get outta here." I tease, walking Gail to the door to get her coat. Christian comes behind me and shakes Jason's hand.

"Have a Merry Christmas, Jason. Enjoy yourselves," he says with a smile.

"You, too, Boss," he says before gathering the bags and presents again.

Christian kisses Gail on the cheek and whispers, "Don't let her scare you. Her bark is worse than her bite."

"So you say—nothing scares you," she smirks. I see a fleeting expression come across his face and then, it's gone as quickly as it came. He smiles at Gail and gives her arms another squeeze.

"Drive carefully," I say, tiptoeing to kiss Jason on the cheek. He blushes a bit and smiles.

"I will. Take care of him. It's his first real Christmas, at least since I've known him." I smile back at him.

"I'll do that." I assure him. We watch as he and Gail board the elevator and then close the door. He pushes me hard against the door and looks into my eyes. I gasp at the surprise as his lips cover mine. He raises my hands over my head and entwines his fingers in mine. His tongue demands entrance to my mouth and I grant it. He is kissing me hungrily, savagely, and my body is on fire all over again. I haven't even had my breakfast yet!

His hands travel slowly down my arms over my shoulders and up to my cheeks. Though he kissed me with complete abandon, he releases my lips with a gentleness that snatches what's left of my breath away. His eyes bore into mine as he breathes, "I love you with everything that I have."

"I know," I whisper, unable to come close to the intensity he is giving me. He closes his eyes and rubs his nose against mine. It's so sensual and intimate. I bring my hands down to his hair and gently massage his scalp.

"Are you okay, Baby?" I ask, concerned. Something is not quite right. Even though his kiss was full of passion and his touch and words show nothing but love, his body is radiating fear and tension.

"I... I..." he stutters, then nods. "I'm okay." No, you're not, but I won't press it right now.

"Okay. Come. Finish your breakfast before it gets cold," I coerce him, taking his hand in mind and kissing his palm before leading him back to the breakfast bar. I decide to give him a bit of a show as he finishes his breakfast—just something to take his mind off of whatever is troubling him. I purposely wore a thong with my favorite pair of yoga pants... the ones that hug every curve and make you look naked. I am bending and stretching all over the kitchen, giving him a full-time view of what he calls my "fantastic ass" while holding a general conversation with him like I am completely unaware of what I'm doing. I could hear him gasp audibly when I have to climb onto the counter to reach something in the highest shelf. I plaster on my perfect innocent concerned look when I turn to him and ask, "Baby, are you alright?"

He actually has to snap himself out of his stupor and I have to fight to keep from smirking at him. "Uh, yeah... you just... startled me getting on the counter. I don't want you to hurt yourself. Can I help you with something?" You're a terrible liar, Grey. Now, I giggle.

"Christian, I've done this a thousand times, but I don't want to give you a heart attack so I'll get down." I move to slide off the counter and he's there in front of me in a millisecond, taking me around my hips and lifting me gently and effortlessly to set my feet firmly on the floor. I turn to face him and there's fire in his eyes. Mission accomplished, but I think too well.

"Thank you," I breathe, looking into molten gray irises.

"You're welcome," he almost growls, his baritone voice thick with unleashed desire. Fuck me, he's hot. I finally come back to myself.

"Finish your breakfast, Mr. Grey," I say softly. He smiles before taking his seat again.

Christian is finally able to finish his breakfast and I am able to get some food in me as well while we talk about our plans.

"Do you have an agenda for today, Mr. Grey?" I ask while I am finishing the last of my scrambled eggs.

"Nope. I've never done Christmas Eve before. You know this is the first time I've even had a tree in the house."

"And what a magnificent tree it is," I say looking at the large 12-foot tree in our great room—not the largest we could get, but it's what we wanted. It's trimmed with silver and gold ornaments and simple white lights with several presents for our family and friends underneath. Christian is still working on his feelings toward the Scooby Gang and although I still haven't failed to see them at least one weekend day since the Melanie Breakdown, we haven't had another Food and Libations yet.

"Well, I have a couple of traditions that you can partake in if you like," I say sweetly.

"Oh? Such as?"

"Well, I bake cookies... hoards and hoards of cookies." His eyes grow large.

"Really?" Now, why is that so hard to believe?

"Yes," I say almost affronted.

"What kind of cookies?" He leans in. Oh, he's interested. I laugh.

"Gingerbread, butter cookies, sugar cookies, lemon bars, and chocolate-chip-pecan," I tell him. His eyes actually sparkle.

"Ooooo, okay! We can do that! What else?" He's going to gorge himself on cookies. I just know it.

"I crack open a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, play Christmas carols and finish wrapping my gifts." He nods.

"You still have gifts to wrap?" he asks.

"I always save a few to wrap on Christmas Eve," I respond.

"Okay, anything else?"

"Well, I usually have spiced cider with Al and we shoot the shit and make resolutions that we know that we aren't going to keep. However, he is in Arizona with James until the 29th, so that's out."

"What will you do in place of that?" he inquires.

"I still have two more things that I do." I smile. "I open one gift, and then I light a fire and eat cookies and milk while I watch old Christmas movies."

"That sounds cozy," he says, pulling me to him and kissing my neck.

"It is. It's very cozy... even cozier when I have someone to share it with." I drape my arms around his neck.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get started!" he exclaims playfully.

* * *

_**GREY**_

We probably made 300 cookies today! How in the hell do you make 300 cookies?

"Butterfly, what are you going to do with all of these cookies?" I ask as she appears to be putting some in little boxes and bags.

"I'll take some to your mother. I eat them during the Christmas movie binge and in the days after Christmas, but I give most of them away." Whew! That's a relief. They look delicious, but I can't be responsible for eating 300 cookies, although those pecan-chocolate-chip...

"Did you think you were going to eat them all?" she laughs. Well, yes, initially—until the stack kept getting bigger and bigger.

"I'll eat a lot of them," I respond with a smile, "but even I can't handle several dozen cookies."

"Well, it's time to move on. I've wrapped my remaining presents and now I want to open one of mine," she declares.

"Can it be from me?" I ask. She looks at me coyly.

"I guess that would be appropriate," she smiles. I hand her an envelope that I have been aching to give her ever since the Adopt-A-Family Affair. She looks at it a bit puzzled.

"A letter?" she asks, bemused.

"Open it," I say softly. She carefully opens the envelope and reads the letter. The further down she gets on the letter, her hand flies up to her mouth. Her knees give way and she falls back onto the sofa.

"Does this mean what I think it means?" she asks. I nod and kneel in front of her.

"I'm going to mentor Marlow," I tell her. "If he does well, I'm going to pay his way through college."

"Oh my God, Christian!" She throws her arms around me and embraces me tightly. I knew that she was hurt when we didn't get them in the Adopt-A-Family drawing. Even though we are doing some amazing things for the family that we did adopt, I know my Butterfly enough to know that there is still a small feeling of emptiness because we didn't get the Whiteheads.

"You are a wonderful, beautiful, kind, and magnificent man!" she says, her face still buried in my neck.

"If I am, it's only because I have a wonderful, beautiful, kind, and magnificent woman by my side." She looks at me with tears in her eyes and shakes her head.

"You are just too much," she sniffs. "Nothing that I could give you could compare to this."

"Try me," I say. That's just money and time, Butterfly. Anything that you give me will be better than that. She sighs and hands me her gift. It's a very small box from Sparrow's. I open it to find a pair of cufflinks inside—black and silver with the Sparrow's emblem on them. Hmm...

"I didn't know that Sparrow's made cufflinks, Baby." I say bemused. Sparrow's is a company that manufactures lock picks. I am so confused.

"Those aren't just any cufflinks," she says as she quickly locks a handcuff onto my wrist. What the hell.

"Butterfly..." I say in a warning tone.

"Oh, cool it, Grey. I only did one wrist. Use the cuff link." Use the cuff link? What the hell does she expect me to do with this?

"Okay... and just how do you expect me to do that?" I ask.

"You're a smart man. I'm sure you'll figure it out." She folds her arms and smiles at me. I look at the handcuffs—nothing special, plain ordinary cuffs. I try to see if they are quick release—nope, just ordinary cuffs. I sigh heavily, a little aggravated. Then she snickers at me. Oh, I'm going to make you pay for that, I think to myself. I then look at the cufflinks. Sparrow's word, Sparrow's logo—nothing spec... wait a minute. I take a closer look at the swiveling cuff link back.

"Get the fuck outta here!" How did she ever find these? How very clever! I straighten the swivel back and there is an opening at one end. I fit it into the handcuff and turn and the cuff releases. I laugh heartily. She bought me a pair of cufflinks that are actually the keys to handcuffs!

"How did you ever find these? These are outstanding!" I say.

"I thought you might like them. You are the man who has absolutely everything," she says.

"These are fantastic, thank you!" I say, kissing her gently on the lips. "They have such carnal implications. I can wear them to work and no one will know why I'm smiling."

"That is so Christian Grey," she says, sweetly. "Come on, it's time for 'It's a Wonderful Life.'"

Butterfly and I watch Christmas movies until the well into the night, then decide to cuddle for a while by the fire. She selects a station that plays Christmas carols and snuggles into my arms while we talk about our plans for tomorrow. We'll sleep in and eat brunch at home then go to my parents' for dinner—open gifts, then come back home—simple enough. The great room is nice and toasty now and I shed my sweater, still wearing my T-shirt and jeans.

"Stay right here, Baby. I want to get out of this sweater, too. The fire is fantastic and I want to enjoy it. I'll be right back." She pecks me gently on the lips and heads off towards our bedroom. I can't believe what a lucky fuck I am. I mean granted, I'm a nice-looking guy and I would never expect to be with an unattractive woman, but Anastasia—she's the whole package! She gorgeous and smart, considerate and giving and so kind, and she loves me. She's not with me for my money or my station. She actually _loves_ me. I don't know what I did to deserve this, but thank fuck for whatever it was.

The songs change and I hear a cute little instrumental version of a Christmas song that I know well, but I just can't place it. I enjoy the tune and wait for the next song, and then the song starts to play again—except this is a slower, more sultry version of the song. Just as I realize what the song is, I hear a beautiful, melodic voice come from behind me...

"Santa Baby, just slip a sable under the tree for me,  
Been an awful good girl, Santa baby,  
So hurry down the chimney tonight."

I turn around to see what's going on and oh. My. God. Butterfly's beautiful voice is singing "Santa Baby" as she saunters over to the sofa where I'm sitting wearing a full length Santa coat, a Santa hat, and a black Santa belt. The "coat" is only held together by the belt, so as she walks, I not only get a showing of beautiful legs that go on forever, but I also see the unique red boots that are more like platform stiletto shoes and red floral stockings that come up to her knee...

… and Greystone is kicking my ass, again. Will you behave, you fucker? I'm seeing this for the first time, too!

"Santa baby, a '54 convertible too, light blue;  
I'll wait up for you, dear; Santa baby,  
So hurry down the chimney tonight."

She has made her way around to the front of me and she stands there with her legs parted, the fire cracking behind her. I want to jump her bones so badly, but I don't want to miss the show.

"Think of all the fun I've missed;  
Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed;  
Next year I could be just as good... If you check off my Christmas list..."

All the fellas? _No _fellas, damn it! Mine!

I slip out of my mini temper tantrum to see her slipping out of her black Santa belt. I am speechless as I watch the full-length red coat with fur trim slip to the floor. Underneath, she is wearing a strapless "Santa" velour dress trimmed top and bottom in white fur with a mock belt around the waist. She turns around to show me that the dress laces up in the back like a corset. It's so short that I can see a hint of her luscious ass underneath. Just as she tells Santa Baby how much of an angel she's been, she bends over to give me a peek of sexy red underwear and a very tempting gap between her legs. I could have withstood it, but she wiggled that lethal thing in my face.

"Oh, fuck," I breathe before I know the words escaped me. I reach for her and she jumps away from my grasp, never missing a beat of her song. She turns around and wiggles a finger at me, confirming what I already knew. This was her show, and I have to sit and observe...

… and Greystone is pissed again. Oh, please, get over it. You're not the only one suffering here!

Knowing that her instructions are clear, she sashays over to me—her hips moving in absolutely illegal ways—and pulls my T-shirt out of my jeans. As she asks Santa Baby for the deed to a platinum mine, my T-shirt goes over my head and behind the sofa somewhere. This is so sexy that I am almost panting.

A platinum mine? Sure, I'll find you one.

She plants my hands firmly on the sofa cushion on either side of me then, walks away and wiggles that cute little ass some more. What she does next almost makes me come on myself. She bends down again—just out of my reach—and runs her hands slowly up her feet, up the calves of these sexy ass stocking boots that she's wearing, up the backs of her thighs, up her butt lifting that sexy little barely legal dress so that I get a full view of her pretty, plump cheeks in these hot ass panties that she's wearing. As she returns to a standing position with her back still to me, she pulls the strings on her corset to free herself from her dress. I actually have to rub Greystone to give him some relief—but I don't let her see me do it.

When she turns around to face me, my hands are back at my sides, lying flat on the sofa cushions. She does another little wiggle as she walks towards me talking about Santa's checks and duplexes and I want to launch myself at her. Showing me just how well this was planned out, she puts her fingers under the top of the dress and effortlessly slides it down her body, slowly torturing my the entire journey as I watch the flimsy material caress her body before falling to the floor at her feet.

She stands before me wearing a strapless bra that matches these insanely sexy panties that she's been taunting me with all night, those hot sexy boots... and a Santa hat. She's still wearing the Santa hat. She drops to her knees in front of me talking about Santa Baby's Tiffany decorations as she slowly unbuckles my belt and unzips my pants.

Oh hell! This is getting unbearable!

"Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing... A ring..." Oh anything you want, Baby, anything you want!

"I don't mean on the phone; Santa baby, So hurry down the chimney tonight..." With those words, I am freed from my pants and boxers and she parts my legs and crawls in between them.

"Hurry down the chimney tonight..." She pulls my hips forward.

"Hurry...tonight!"

* * *

_**A/N:**_

_**Playroom Playlist (part of it anyway):**_

_**Janet Jackson—Would You Mind  
Janet Jackson—Discipline  
Janet Jackson—Someday Is Tonight  
Janet Jackson—Funny How Time Flies  
Janet Jackson—Rope Burn  
Janet Jackson and Herb Alpert—Making Love In The Rain**_

_**There is only ONE Santa Baby—the ORIGINAL! Eartha Kitt—Santa Baby. Yes, she was the original. And surprise—Marilyn Monroe never sang "Santa Baby." The ones on YouTube that boast Marilyn Monroe are Eartha Kitt. Sorry, Marilyn fans...**_

_**Pictures of places, cars, fashion, etc can be found at pinterest ladeeceo/mending-dr-steele/**_

_**Shoot me over an email at divinebronzegoddess at gmail . com (no spaces of course and use the "at" sign) to join my mailing list and stay up to date on blogs, publishing of my stories, etc.**_

_**Feel free to review—it is greatly appreciated.**_

_**Love and Handcuffs!  
Lynn x**_


	11. Merry Christmas

_**With even less time on my hands than I had before, I am trying to catch up on and respond to all of my reviews. With the exception of guest reviews (which I have to read to approve) I am just making my way into chapter 7 reviews. So rest assured that if I haven't responded to you yet, I promise that I will. I hope that you all had a Merry Christmas and I thank you all for your seasons greetings in reviews and in PMs. :-)**_

_**To Ana - Yes, blood may have been appropriate, but Carly's got enough heading her way, and the best revenge is living well. Imagine how she felt when Ana showed up at her door in a Cadillac Escalade with two bodyguards wearing Cartier, Louboutin, and Alexander McQueen. ;-)**_

_**To BuggLady - You shot the "to be continued guy?" (falling on my knees in dramatic mourning fashion) OH LAWD! WHHYYYYYYY!? WHHHHYYYYYYY!? (Drying my eyes from my "Wailing Wall" moment. Seriously, though, I just have too, too, too much going on and I am only able to update once a week right now. I hope that will change in the future, but right now, my plate is SO full that it may be awhile. I appreciate that you love my story that much and truly hope with all of my heart that you stick with me (please... oh, please!) ;-)  
**_

_**To Michelle B - Nope, Carly has no remorse so we know where she's headed. There will be no cardigans in Ana's future unless she's wearing it with nothing but a pair of panties. :-)**_

_******To Anon (I'M SAWWY!), Chocolate (this chapter should quench your thirst), Gwen, Hun, Lorraine (again... I'M SAWWY!), Lou, RWC/Kellie, Soph (patience, it's coming), Teresaromance, Toefrumpy, and all of my guests who didn't sign in, thank you all for your reviews and for your support.  
**_

_******One of my guests mentioned kidnapping charges for what the GV gang did to Ana. Morally, you'll see them pay for that shit. I was hoping to make them pay legally as well for the kidnapping. Unfortunately, the statute in Nevada runs out in three years - extended to eight years if a police report was filed, which it was, but still too late. :-( No statute on murder, though. :-)**_

_******One of my guests also asked who would I consider for Carly. As young Carly, think Hayden Panettiere when she played the cheerleader on "Heroes." For older Carly, think Mary Kate Olsen. I know some people might think she's pretty, but to me, she wears too much black make-up around her eyes and always looks like she had a rough night! That's putting it nicely-I originally said she always looks like a train hit her! (In fairness, I don't know if it's Mary Kate or Ashley that I'm talking about because I can't tell them apart, but any of you that have seen them knows that when they stand together, one of them always looks like hell! That's the one I'm talking about. I googled them separately and Mary Kate looks worse.) I probably do need to give some thought to doing a character board for Mending Dr. Steele since I've already got four characters that weren't on the board for PDS.**_

_******All prior disclaimers apply here - let the character mangling continue!  
**_

**Chapter 11—Merry Christmas!**

_**GREY**_

_She is tormenting me—ferociously taking me in her mouth and I can't move my hands. I've been instructed to sit still and enjoy. My dick is burning as I watch Butterfly's bobbing Santa hat in my lap. I don't think I can ever look at another Santa hat the same in my whole life. She won't let me touch her, so I am gripping onto the sofa for dear life. She is sucking me so hard that I growl with each draw, certain that I'm going to die from the intensity and just when I am about to blow, she applies a death grip at the base of my erection effectively halting my ejaculation. I cry out in pain, pleasure, and frustration at her magnificent and torturous skills._

"_Ana, please!" I beg as she teases the head of my engorged penis while looking up at me with those wanton blue eyes through sexy eyelashes. She doesn't say a word. She just goes down on me again and starts the process over... and over... and over... Three times more she brings me to my fucking wits end until I am begging her shamelessly to put me out of my misery. The next time she takes me into her mouth, she does just that. _

_I thought I would explode the moment her lips touch the base of my shaft and the head rubs against her throat, but she knows what she's doing. She pauses, holding her mouth right there, wrapped around my dick and not moving. I don't know how she can breathe! I dare not move. I'm panting like a fucking puppy. She pulls her head back slowly, all the way to the head which she caresses with her tongue, then slowly drops down on me again all the way to the base. I groan in agony as she is determined to draw this out. My dick is hot and throbbing and the last time I saw it, red and purple and angry! She repeats the move and I feel like I am tearing the stuffing out of my sofa cushion. _

"_Ana! God, Ana, please!" I beg. I can't take anymore. She has truly pushed me to the very end of my sanity. I want to come, but she is controlling the fuck out of my pleasure, giving me just enough to keep me on the edge and not enough to push me over. Fuck, is she good. _

_She repeats the move twice and I can do nothing but groan in agony as she continues to torment me. The third time she drops she stays there again, giving me a moment to catch my breath—but only a moment. She pulls back again, only about an inch, and back down—beginning a slow deep rhythm on my aching erection. Oh God, she's cruel! If she stops me from coming this time, I just might cry. Her lips and jaws tighten on my shaft and my legs start to shake. _

_She's not stopping! Thank God! _

_She keeps the same rhythm, not changing—slow, deep, and short; my head repeatedly hitting the back of her throat and she swallows just at the right moment to flex her muscles against it._

"_My God, Ana!" I croak as I rock into her mouth, only slightly, matching her stroke and rhythm against my eager hips. Again and again, she strokes me slowly, tightening her lips and jaws, swallowing. Just as I am sure that I can't take anymore, her delicate hands travel up chest and viciously scratch across my pecks and nipples. _

"_Fuck! Ana, Baby!" I cry out as a mind-shattering orgasm rips through my thighs, hips, and groin. I thrust hard into her mouth and she meets me with equal fury, clamping down on my member and forcing juices and sounds from me in an event that I am sure I will never forget. My head digs back into the sofa and I wrap my legs around her, my body begging her not to let go until this episode is over—and she complies, rubbing my chest as much as her pinioned arms will allow and never releasing the rhythmic death grip her jaws have on my shaft. My eyes are shut so tight that they hurt! I don't know if I'm still coming or not, but it feels magnificent! Don't stop, Baby... please, don't stop. _

_I don't know how long we stay in that hold, but I finally drop my legs when the throbbing stops in my dick and I am now a useless mound of flesh on my white sofa. She gently releases my dick from her mouth and I feel it fall helplessly against my thigh. I am breathing heavily as she straddles me and kisses my exposed neck before she says, "Merry Christmas, Santa Baby." _

I jolt awake in my bed, hot and sweaty, my dream still vivid in my head—a perfect re-enactment of last night's torturous activities as Butterfly once again proved that she will never cease to amaze me. Greystone is standing at full attention, morning wood in magnificent glory and ready for action—and what do I see before me? I see a beautiful butterfly garden leading to the most magnificent ass in the world, sleeping peacefully next to me. Oh, joy! Merry Christmas to me!

I lean down and caress, lick, and kiss the garden like I have many times since she got the tattoo. She stirs a bit, then responds almost immediately to my caress. Something about that ink...

"Mmm, Christian..." she purrs without opening her eyes. I roll on top of her and gently part her legs. She gasps softly as I enter her beautiful pussy from behind—already wet for me—and away we go...

* * *

The morning love was exquisite. We screwed ourselves into yet another stupor and I awake mid-morning to find that Butterfly isn't in bed with me. I know that she is strong, but this is Christmas and she is still very fragile. My heart starts beating quickly and I do my best not to panic as I dress in a pair of sweatpants and T-shirt, step into my slippers and wrap my robe around me before I go in search of my Butterfly.

I find her in the great room on the floor in front of yet another fire. She is wearing a sexy cable-knit turtleneck long-sleeved sweater mini-dress and she is partially wrapped in the cream colored faux fur throw that is normally on the sofa. She is staring at the flames like they are telling her a captivating story and she simply can't turn away. She has that dazed look in her eye that she had when she was stunned and I'm almost afraid that she has freaked out again sitting in front of the fire.

I enter the great room and quietly sit next to her at the fire with my legs bent and my elbows on his knees, looking at the fire with her. For a full 30 seconds, she says nothing. She doesn't make a move or even acknowledge my presence. Now I am starting to freak out a bit, and just as my imagination starts to get the better of me, Butterfly says, "What do you think they are doing right now?" Strange question.

"Who?" I ask.

"All of those people who attacked me..." she said, flatly. "Those people who hid it... those people who knew about it or had something to do with it... What do you think they are doing right now?" What in the...

"Do you really want to talk about that on Christmas morning, Butterfly?" I ask softly but incredulously.

"Why not?" she asks, still looking at the dancing flames. "All of these years have passed. These people have lived their lives, gone to college, had jobs, made families, just lived their lives like nothing happened—like none of them ever brutally and maliciously left a young girl at death's door all those years ago—whereas I had to live with it since the day Cody Whitmore raped me. I had to live with this whole horrible situation. There were years stolen from me where I couldn't function because of what happened to me. Hell, I'm still losing days and going half-bat-shit because of it. Do you think any of them ever looked back on what they did to me? Do you think any of them ever had a point in their life where the guilt was so strong that they couldn't function? Do you think any of them ever woke up on Christmas morning wondering what ever happened to Anastasia Steele? Or did they just go in with life and about their business like nothing ever happened in Green Valley—like this whole thing was a bad dream that would one day just go away?"

I just sit there and mull over what she said for a moment. I hate the fact that she's having these feelings and thinking about this at all—today of all days—but I understand where she's coming from, especially since I often wondered the same thing about the crack whore's pimp—if it ever crossed _his_ mind what he did to me and how it affected me.

"I wish that I could answer that question for you, Anastasia. I'm sure that not all of those people were horrible people to begin with and I'm sure that they are not all horrible people now, even though they did a horrible thing. Unfortunately, however, I know from experience that some people are just plain rotten to the core—just downright, deep down rotten to the core. They just don't feel the things that they do to other people. There's nothing that you can do about it, they are just plain rotten. You don't want to believe that people can be that rotten and that they will always be rotten, but unfortunately, there are some times when some people truly are just plain rotten and they just stay rotten—and there's not a lot that you can do about it. That's just the way that they are."

"There's almost no use in anything if people are just rotten to the core. If they are just rotten all the time, I mean really—what's the use? Why even bother?"

We watch the fire for a little while longer before she says, "Do you think I'm a bad person for not wanting to forgive these people? Am I a bad person for wanting revenge for what was done to me?"

"Again, I can't answer that question in terms of good versus bad, but I understand how it feels to not want anyone to get away with doing something dirty to you and they never pay for what they've done. You're not directly doing anything to anybody, Butterfly. If anything, we are setting into motion a chain of events that results in these people finally getting their just desserts. For example, those who have gotten their money unjustly, we are setting the stage so that these people cease from profiting from their illegal activities."

We're going after the people who have lived comfortably all of their lives after what they did to her—she didn't get to live that comfortably with those memories chasing her. I'm just using my contacts and resources to make sure that these people don't continue to live so comfortably and not have to pay for the things that they have done. The folks who have done things illegally, we're simply shining light on their activities so that they can pay for their crimes. We're not doing anything like having anyone physically assaulted or killed, which would actually be justice as far as I'm concerned. What's happening to them is nothing like what happened to Anastasia... Anastasia almost died!

So she can sleep easily knowing what's happening to them. They're getting their just desserts—and it's against their possessions, not their persons. I'm breaking these fuckers; making sure they can't find jobs or get help; making sure that they're getting blackballed in their specific industries; making sure that the stigma they thought they escaped when they left Green Valley and Green Valley High School follows them for the rest of their miserable lives. I'm going to ruin them, take the wind out of their sails, bring them down to absolutely nothing. They won't even know what hit them—and they won't be able to recover. Then once they have lost their fortunes, many of them will be revealed for their participation in the attack on my Butterfly and they may just end up having to go to jail.

Those that remain unscathed just may face a different type of wrath.

"I won't continue to ask 'why me,'" she says wrapping herself tighter in the fur wrap in an attempt to escape the chill. "I could never get the answer that I was searching for anyway. Nothing would answer that question to my satisfaction." I slide behind her and wrap my arms around her.

"No, it wouldn't," I say softly, breathing in the scent of her hair. "But you have come out of this ordeal a remarkable woman and I am forever in awe of you... and in love with you." Her head falls back on my shoulder.

"Hold me tighter, Christian," she breathes, her eyes closed. I wrap my arms tighter around her and pull her so close that she can't move. "Yes," she whispers. She awakens the protector in me. She is so strong, so fierce—but when she needs me, her vulnerability comes out and I just want to shield and protect her from everything.

"Anything, Baby... Anything for you."

* * *

_**STEELE**_

"Ana, you look absolutely adorable!" Grace croons as I remove my coat to reveal a white Asos 90's roll neck long-sleeved crop top and a taupe jersey maxi skirt with a sexy high waist that hugs my hips and then flares out mermaid style from just below the hip to the hem. I have finished the outfit with a pair of Jennifer Lopez taupe platform booties. My hair is blown flat and silky straight, falling over my shoulders and down my back much like Cher wore her hair in the 70's. My make-up is light and with the exception of my promise ring, I am sans jewelry. The simplicity of the ensemble is what makes it look so chic!

"Thank you, Grace," I respond, giving her a hug and a kiss. Christian greets his father and brother with one of those "man hugs" before kissing his mother adoringly on the cheek.

"Ana, you look fantastic!" Valerie exclaims emerging from parts unknown and giving me a hug. She is looking rather hot herself in a black Fendi jacquard body dress and a pair of tan and black Jimmy Choo stilettos with a strap around the ankle.

"So do you, Val! Adore the shoes," I respond.

"Thank you... I'm not overdressed, am I?" she whispers nervously.

"Absolutely not! You look fabulous." I reassure her and she breathes a sigh of relief. I see her and Christian make eye contact and the tension is still present.

"Hi, Christian. Merry Christmas," she says inviting.

"Thank you, Valerie, and Merry Christmas to you as well," he says, his voice friendly but with just a hint of a chill. He does give her a smile before kissing me on the cheek and excusing himself. Valerie drops her head for a moment but quickly recovers, smiles weakly at me and shrugs before joining Elliot on the sofa. I don't know what to say about this predicament. I love my friends and I love Christian. He has been a little frosty to them since I had the breakdown a few weeks back, but I see him making an effort to at least be cordial with them. I won't force him to do anything or to accept or forgive anyone against his will. Quite frankly, I'm still a little salty with my friends about that incident. However, I can't deny that it would make my life easier if we could all just let bygones by bygones.

Ginger Creepy Guy is here again. Christian told me that they didn't find anything on him, but he still gives me the willies—and not because he was being all stalkery staring at me in the library during our visit at Thanksgiving although that didn't help matters any. Nonetheless, when I see him in a room anywhere, I either make a speedy exit or quickly find my man. No use in leading him to think that I am partial in _any _way to anything that he has to offer.

To my surprise, Liona has tamed herself. Her dress is much more professional and in line with her duties, as is her hair and make-up. I don't know if Grace may have said something about it or if she finally realized that she wasn't going to get Christian and made the decision to dress more appropriately.

We all sit down for the present exchange right before dinner. Christian has, of course, showered me with half of the Cartier in all of Seattle before we got here and I in turn presented him with gifts that I thought he could use but didn't already have. Again, it's murder buying for a man who has everything. Even his family has the same problem when it comes to Christian. Elliot was easy—advanced Mariners' tickets for the game of his choice. I'm surprised he doesn't have season tickets by now, but he says that his schedule is so hectic that they would probably just go to waste. For Carrick, I got a 3D personalized crystal sculpture cube for his desk. It depicts the scales of justice, his name, and his company name. I bought Mia and Ethan the Waterford Elysian gold-tone ice bucket and rocks glasses for their new apartment—very young and chic! For the other women—jewelry, what else? For Grace, I found a beautiful vintage cameo brooch. I was shocked when she said that she had never had a cameo before. It seemed so much her style. I gave Val the Tiffany silver infinity bracelet—she'll wear just about _anything _from Tiffany.

Christian got a lot of cufflinks, which of course made me laugh when I thought about the Sparrow cufflinks that I bought him. Carrick bought him a mahogany executive desk set. It was absolutely gorgeous and Christian really liked it. Besides the various items that I received from Christian's family, Val bought me a gorgeous sexy dress that I intend to wear to our New Year's Eve party and my father's wedding. I am feeling a little melancholy about Daddy not being able to spend Christmas with me, but he will be here tomorrow to spend time with us and of course, with Mandy before they get married. Just as we are about to retire to the dining room for dinner...

"Do you have room for two more?" I turn around to see my father and his fiance being led into the room by Ginger Creepy Guy.

"Daddy!" I sprint over to my father, hug him and kiss him on the cheek. "I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow."

"There was no way that I was not going to spend Christmas with my favorite girls," he says sweetly. I smile at him then over at Mandy.

"Hi, Mandy," I say pulling her into an embrace and realizing that there is more of her to embrace. My eyes widen. "You've got a little baby bump!" I whisper.

"I knoooow," she whines quietly. I see the look in her eyes and then say,

"The wedding's in a week. You'll be just fine, trust me." I wink at her and her trepidation seems to ease immediately. I take her hand while Christian greets my father and we all go into the dining room and enjoy Christmas dinner.

* * *

We are all enjoying after-dinner drinks in the great room when Mia asks the million-dollar question.

"So, Mandy, Ray, are you guys going to live in the Seattle area after the wedding or will you be moving to Montesano?" Dad and Mandy look at one another.

"Well, it's funny you should ask that, Miss Mia," Dad says and I feel an announcement coming on. I turn my attention to my father. "We've talked about this a lot and we've decided that I'm going to move to Mandy's house in Kent and relocate my business to Seattle."

The entire table seems to be waiting for my reaction and I'm struck speechless. Dad's moving. He's lived in Montesano his whole life. Dad continues...

"Mandy has a lovely three-bedroom house that would be perfect for our little family and it just makes more sense to relocate closer to the city. I've got more accounts in the Seattle area now and Mandy can stay close to her job if she chooses to keep working once the baby is born." They're moving into Mandy's house in Kent. Hmm...

"What are you going to do with the house, Dad?" I ask, solemnly. Dad looks at me, his eyes filled with caution.

"I'm going to sell it, Annie. There's no reason to have two houses at this point."

"Sell it? You're going to sell the house?" I ask, horror lacing my voice.

"Yes, I'm going to sell the house. My life is not there anymore. My life is with Mandy." He's selling our house! He's selling the place where I made all of my worthwhile childhood memories... where he whisked me away to recover after those bastards in Green Valley beat me damn near to death... where he taught me everything that I knew about anything... where I grew up because he brought me there after he married Carla... where he put his heart, blood, sweat, and tears into trying to build a life for us and trying to keep her happy... where she walked out of his life and into the arms of another man, ripping me and my daddy apart for years... where she returned and ripped me away from him once again...

My memories aren't the only ones still in that house.

"It's time to start over," I say after almost an eternity of silence. "It's time to make new memories and live a new life," I look over at Christian, "and let the old life go." The change in Christian's gaze is unreadable. Although I don't know what it means or what's behind it, I turn back to my father and say, "It's time, Dad. It's time to sell the house. I'm very happy for you guys. When do I get to see your house, Mandy?"

It almost feels like the entire room breathes a sigh of relief, including the walls.

"I'll give you the address, Ana. You are welcome anytime," she says with a warm smile. Val moves the conversation on to other things.

"So, Mandy, I notice that the subject of your returning to work is open. Are you going to stop working once you have the baby?"

"I haven't decided yet. I love my job, but I don't know if I would rather be home with my baby. My mortgage is nearly nothing and I'll be adding Ray's name to the deed. I don't have a car note since I don't drive a fancy new car..."

"That may change," Dad pipes in. Mandy throws a look at him. "I just don't want you and the baby to end up stranded anywhere."

"I... have to agree with Dad on that one, Mandy. What do you drive now?" I say. She sighs.

"It's a 2007 Saturn. It's the most reliable car I've ever owned in my life!" she declares. I snicker a bit.

"No offense, Mandy, but they don't even make Saturns anymore!" I point out.

"I know, but I've owned my Saturn since it was brand new and I'm not getting rid of it. It's one of the best cars ever made and that's that!" Her heels are dug in and I see that my father is going to have one hell of a fight on his hands.

"Well, I'm going to let you two lovebirds sort that out," I say with a wink as I sip more spiked eggnog. "You were actually talking about whether or not you would go back to work after you had the baby..."

Mandy basically made the point that she has ample savings and very little expenses since she lives a simple life, so she is not sure that she will go back to work after the baby is born. I can totally see why she would want to spend all of her time with her beautiful new baby. That's going to be a tough choice to make.

I can hear my iPhone ringing in my purse as I didn't turn off the ringer, so I excuse myself to go and answer it. I go into the foyer and look at my phone. I don't recognize the number but decide to answer it anyway.

"Dr. Steele," I say flatly.

"_Dr. Steele," _the voice on the other end is filled with trepidation. "_I know that I shouldn't be bothering you, Ma'am, but my name is Michael St. John." _Doesn't ring any bells for me.

"Should I know who you are, Mr. St. John?" I ask flatly.

"_Well, maybe not since we've never spoken before. I'm calling on behalf of... someone else..."_ The hair on the back of my neck rises.

"On behalf of whom?" I ask cautiously. Mr. St. John sighs heavily.

"_She's dying, Dr. Steele. She doesn't have long left. She's suffering and she won't let go. She won't go until she talks to you." _

"Who are you talking about? Who's dying?" I'm getting anxious and angry at the same time. "Spit it out, damn it!" This last phrase brings Christian into the foyer. I don't make eye-contact with him even though I see his feet walking into the area.

"_Melanie, Dr. Steele. She needs to let go. She's holding on to talk to you. The doctors have no idea why she isn't gone yet, but she won't let go. Please, Dr. Steele, she's suffering so badly." _

Are you fucking kidding me? Is this fucker really serious? He's calling me with this bullshit about this bitch today?

"Have you lost your fucking senses? You must be out of your mind to call me on Christmas day with this bull! You must be out of your mind to call me at all! You've got some nerve!" I yell into the phone.

"_I had no choice, Dr. Steele. This is a brutal, vicious, and cruel way to die—slowly and painfully—and she refuses to go quietly. She refuses to let go until she gets to talk to you one more time. Please, Dr. Steele, for her family... for her children... have mercy..." _

I laugh aloud on the phone even though I didn't intend to do it. "Mercy? You're kidding, right? Mercy? Seriously? Think of her family? Ask poor Melanie how she was thinking of _my _family when she filmed her cousin beating the hell out of me. Ask her how much mercy she showed me when those bastards killed _my _child. How _dare_ you ask me for mercy now! I don't owe her mercy. I owe her nothing but to let her die! Leave me alone and don't ever call me again!" I end the call and I am out of breath like I just ran a marathon.

Christian moves cautiously towards me, uncertainty etched in his face. His hands are clearly at the ready, poised to catch me just in case I fall. I won't fall. I'm too pissed off to fall.

"Christmas Day!" I whisper to him harshly. "That bastard called me on Christmas Day... about _her!_" I hiss.

"Baby..." Christian is moving closer. I look at him expecting, like he will have the answers to my burning questions.

"I'm doing everything I can to let that cold-hearted, manipulative bitch die in peace and they keep bothering me." I look up at Christian. "She wants absolution. She wants me to give her absolution. That's what she wants from me. She and her cousin and her friends robbed me of a portion of my life... of a lot of my peace... and now, at the end of _her_ life, she wants me to give it to her! Hasn't she done enough? She was a part of one of the most horrific moments of my life. I'm still trying to deal with it—trying to find some sort of justice... redemption for it—but she wants me to tell her that it's okay! Isn't that the most ridiculous thing you have ever heard!?" I'm trying not to shriek.

"Yes, Butterfly," Christian says, calmly, "it is." I look at him trying to understand his coolness. Why isn't he horrified by this? I am absolutely livid. Without a word, he opens his arms to me... and then I realize why he is so cool.

One of us had to be.

I run into his arms and he cocoons me in his warmth, kissing my hair and holding me gently but firmly against him.

"Do you want to cry?" he asks softly.

"No. I want to scream." I lay my head against his chest and absorb his warmth. I want to hit something until I stop feeling this angry. Instead, I hold my man and pull from his strength to calm me, to soothe my wrath. He gently strokes my back, rubbing away my ire. I take deep breaths and begin to push the thought of St. John and Melanie out of my mind.

"Ana?" I hear Valerie's voice come from the direction of the great room. "Are you okay?"

"She's fine," Christian says curtly but flatly, before tucking me under his arm and leading me to his mother's library. He sits with me on the couch and holds me close to him. "Do you need a minute? Do you want to talk?" I shake my head.

"There's nothing to talk about, really—not right now, at least. I just want her—them—to leave me alone. I've decided not to take the video to Green Valley until she dies and now she's almost there. That's all I'm giving her, because even I don't think that a woman dying of cancer should spend those last days in jail. That's all the mercy that she gets from me, and that's more than she deserves." Christian knows that statement means there is nothing else to be said about the matter and he doesn't press it anymore. I take a deep breath and let it out, allowing my body to sink into his. "She wasn't trying to 'take me away,' you know," I say softly.

Christian pauses for a minute. He knows that I'm talking about the way he whisked me away when Val entered the foyer.

"Yes, I know," he responds, and he doesn't say anything else about it. I stand and straighten my clothes, then reach for his hand. He takes my hand and stands with me, following me back to the great room.

"Is everything alright, Annie?" My father is the first to speak. I wasn't exactly quiet during my conversation with Melanie in the foyer.

"It's fine, Dad," I say, walking into the great room. "Unfortunately, Polly Polaroid's caretaker seems to think that I owe her one last conversation before she dies, and I wholeheartedly beg to differ."

"You can't be serious!" Grace says, appalled. "He had the nerve to call you on Christmas day?"

"My sentiments exactly!" I respond sharply. "Maybe he was trying to appeal to my Christmas spirit or something, who knows? I'm hoping that's the last I'll hear of him." I quickly scan the room and notice that Val is missing. I look to Elliot who responds, "the indoor patio off of the kitchen." I look to Christian who nods and I go in search of Valerie.

She is standing quietly in the middle of the large glass room. It is very dimly lit and there is a beautiful view of the clear December sky. I walk over and stand next to her, silently examining the stars.

"We fucked up, didn't we, Steele?" she asks, not making eye-contact with me. I look over at her.

"Yeah, Val, unfortunately you did," I say softly. "He doesn't trust easily, and he has a really hard time letting people in. No doubt he's feeling a bit of betrayal from you all. I mean think about it—I was catatonic and he couldn't do anything to help me. Maxie's talking about taking me out of there with a court order and the rest of you are jumping down his throat accusingly. When he needed you, you all turned on him. That's one of the worst things that you can do to someone. I've forgiven you all because I love you. I don't think it's going to be that easy for him."

"So when you guys get married, we may not be invited to the wedding?" she says, impassively. I glare at her and she looks at me. "Oh, come off it, Steele. A blind man can see that the two of you are hopelessly in love and it's only a matter of time before that promise ring is replaced with an engagement ring." I roll my eyes at her.

"Well, Christian is not a vindictive man... at least not from what I've seen. Just... I don't know, give him more time, I guess," I say finally. Valerie nods and she's quiet for a moment.

"We were scared, too, Ana," she says quietly. "We didn't react well, and I understand that now, but we were scared too, okay? I know where I stand. I know that Allen is your best friend and I never had a problem with that, but you're _my _best friend, Ana. I love Maxie... and Phil and Gary and Al... I really do, but _you're_ my best friend." Her voice cracks on the last few words as she refuses to let tears stain her face. I put my arm around her. She doesn't need to say anything else.

"I love you, too, Val," I say looking out at nothing and listening to the night as we just stand there for a while in silence again.

"I miss Food and Libations," she said, speaking the same thoughts I had for the last few weeks.

"I know. So do I." I lay on her shoulder and she leans her head on mine as we stand there quietly contemplating life. How am I ever going to balance my friends and the man that I love without having to sacrifice one for the other? Christian hasn't asked me to do that, but he is still licking his wounds from the day that the Scooby Gang turned on him, and I don't know when that's going to change, if ever.

"How are things with Elliot?" I ask her. She doesn't move her gaze.

"Good. He got a call from Miss Kavanaugh." I lift my head from her shoulder. Why didn't he tell me? Then again, why would he tell me? We officially stopped our sessions one week before Thanksgiving, so technically he's not my patient anymore.

"Okay, and how did that go?" I ask cautiously.

"About as well as can be expected, I guess," she answers impassively.

"When did Kate call? Why hasn't either of you said anything?" I questioned.

"About a week ago and I'm saying something now. Anyway, it was really no big deal. She wants to have lunch with him or something."

"Are you going to let him?" I ask, my voice rising to a higher pitch than I intended. She looks over at me puzzled.

"_Let_ him? He's a grown man, Ana. I can't tell him what he can and can't do."

"You can when he's talking about having lunch with his ex-fiancée!" I hiss.

"What's that going to solve? I go all super-nova green-eyed monster on him and then what? If he needs to see her, then let him see her. If she still holds his heart strings, then he needs to be with her. If she doesn't, then he'll be with me." I look at her puzzled. I'm having flashbacks of mine and Allen's dinner at the New Orleans a few months back when James decided to have lunch with that Rodriguez guy and Al fell apart on the dance floor.

"That's what this is, isn't it? It's your litmus test—to see if he's still hung up on Kate," I conclude.

"Honestly, no, it's not. I don't want him to see her. I don't want him to talk to her. I don't him to think that there is a possibility that he could still be in love with her... but I won't stop him. He's got to make that call all on his own, and I won't interfere." She pastes the impassive look back on her face. She seemed to have more emotion talking about me and F&L than she has for Elliot seeing Kate.

"Val, have your feelings for Elliot changed?" I ask her honestly. I would be freaking out if Christian came to me telling me that he was having lunch with his ex-fiancée. She sighs, annoyed.

"Of course not!" she snaps. "I just won't be that girl, that insecure bitch that won't let him near another woman because I'm afraid he's going to run off with her!" Now we're getting somewhere.

"This is not just 'another woman,' Val. This is Kate. They were engaged, and not for a short period of time either. This was a very serious relationship."

"I know that, Ana. I'm not stupid... or blind, okay?" she spits. She's getting angry.

"If this doesn't bother you, then why are you getting so upset?" I ask.

"For the love of God, Anastasia! Would you let it go?" she shrieks. I must have looked like someone hit me, I'm sure. She falls into a nearby chaise, buries her hands in her face, and weeps mournfully.

Holy cow, Batman. I can't even remember the last time I saw Valerie cry! What is it with the Grey Manor that makes women cry? Mia on Thanksgiving, Mandy the day after, and now Val.

"I'm sorry, Val," I say softly, but no avail. She is sobbing her heart out and, almost on cue, Elliot appears in the doorway.

"Angel!" Elliot's voice is just above a whisper. "What's wrong?" He drops to his knees in front of her. She tries to compose herself to talk to him, but it's no use. Her chest is heaving and she keeps her face covered. She's weeping like someone has died. Elliot looks hopelessly up at me for answers.

"We were... talking about your upcoming lunch with Kate," I say honestly, hoping not to try to analyze her feelings but give Elliot some idea of why she is crying. He turns back to Val.

"Baby, please move your hands," he says softly while stroking her hair. She drops her hands into her lap but continues to cry. "I won't go, Angel. I don't need closure, _she _does. I know where I want to be, and won't go if you do want me to." Val raises red, puffy eyes up to Elliot and throws her arms around his neck.

"Please... don't go..." she weeps. "Please... I thought... please... don't go." She can barely speak. Elliot stands with his arms around Val, pulling her out of her seat while she continues to sob. He lifts her into his arms bridal style and takes her previous seat on the chaise, sitting her on his lap.

"Sssssh, hush now, Angel," he comforts. "All you had to do was tell me. I don't need to see Kate. There's no unfinished business for me. I love _you._" He gently kisses her cheeks where the tears are falling. Damn these Grey men! Who taught them so well? I watch as he strokes her hair and her back, cuddling her close to him while she releases her fears and anxiety—and now, I'm the intruder. I quietly walk out of the patio and I am a little shocked to see Christian standing just beyond the door with his arms folded, head down, and leaning against the opposite wall.

"Is she okay?" he asks. I sigh.

"I think she will be now. She's stubborn and headstrong, and it would have ripped her apart if he had gone to lunch with Kate—but she wasn't going to tell him." He walks over to me.

"Just like you," he says softly. My head jerks back and I look at him strangely.

"I tell you everything, Christian," I say, confused, except maybe that I'm ready for you to propose to me again, and that...

"Except that I'm making you feel like you have to choose between me and your friends." Fuck!

It's not like I can deny it. I love them all so much, even though the love is different. The fact that they are at odds is not an easy pill for me to swallow.

"I know that you have to work through what happened when I checked out—how they treated you. I wouldn't dare rush that process or ever try to make you feel bad or guilty for feeling betrayed, because you were. You were betrayed and abandoned when they should have been there for you. I understand that, and I know that they need to understand it, too." I assure him. He looks up at Val.

"I think they do, Butterfly," he says, not taking his eyes off of her. "I heard what she said. I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I came to see if everything was alright and I heard you talking. You're the glue that holds everything together. Think about it. Before any of us met each other, we all knew you." This is the first time I have pondered that thought. With the exception of Phil who met me and Maxie at the same time, I'm the common thread between everybody. Shit, that's a huge responsibility to carry, but I now see where Christian is going with his analysis.

"I see what you mean," I respond. I sigh heavily and cover my face. "You always knew that I wouldn't choose..."

"... But it's hard for you that I am still a bit at odds with them," he finishes my thought and I nod. "You know, besides Elena, Flynn is the only person that I ever considered my friend." I tense up at the mention of both of those names. I wish Elena would go jump off of a cliff somewhere and Flynn... well, shit. He did the same thing to me that my friends did to Christian, only his accusation was more severe because he insulted me personally _and _professionally.

"You _have_ to know that situation is different, Christian," I protest.

"Yes, I know that it's different. I'm just telling you because I plan on calling him soon—to see how he has been and to see if that part of the relationship can be salvaged." I look into his eyes and I know that what he said was true. Elena and Flynn were his only friends. Elena is definitely a hard limit, but Flynn, not so much. I nod.

"Okay, I understand," I relent with no malice.

"... And, I will work on being more sociable with the crew from here on out. You're right, I feel very abandoned by them, but they are important to you and you are important to me." I smile at him as a waterlogged Valerie emerges from the patio.

"Christian, please," she begins, "what can I... we ever do to make this up to you? I know that I speak for all of us when I say that we are so, so sorry..."

"That's the thing though, Valerie. You _can't _speak for all of them. You can only speak for yourself," Christian points out.

"Then speaking for myself, I was a horrid, horrid bitch and I'm so, so sorry. I swear to you that it will never happen again... unless you _really_ hurt my girl, then all bets are off, Grey." Valerie's face doesn't flinch when she speaks to Christian.

"First, you were not a horrid bitch. To be honest, someone else took that role for you." I immediately know that he's talking about Maxie. "You were in a protective mode and you wanted answers, and I understand that. All I ask is that when you get into that mode, that you remember who is friend and who is foe. You all made me feel like an accused criminal in my own home and that is simply unacceptable, but the worst thing of all is that you honestly thought I could hurt Anastasia. You didn't have answers, so you picked the nearest, easiest target—which was me—even after I told you what was wrong. Can you see why a man would have a hard time getting over that?" He questions, his voice never rising once. Valerie drops her head.

"Yes, I can," she says softly and sighs. Elliot puts his arm around her.

"Give her a break, Bro," he beseeches his brother. Christian sighs and takes Val's hand.

"I love that you love her so much," he begins, "but please know this—she's my whole world. I would never knowingly do anything that would cause her pain. I love her too much for that. If something like this ever happens again, please remember that we are on the same side." Val shudders from her previous tears and I feel like my heart is going to burst with all the love I feel for this man right now. Val smiles softly and nods, looking up as Christian through long, wet eyelashes. Christian returns the smile, squeezes her hand, and kisses her gently on the cheek. No more words need to be said between them at this time.

One down, three to go...

As Elliot and Val disappear through the kitchen and into the dining room, I snatch handfuls of Christian's hair and pull his lips down to meet mine. All of the emotion that is bubbling up inside of me explodes in our kiss. I hungrily take his lips and ravage his tongue with mine, attempting to devour as much of his essence as I can before releasing him. His arms snake possessively around my waist and his hands slide under my shirt and up my bare back causing me to shiver and eliciting a deep, yearning moan from Christian. My feet are dangling off the floor as we are consumed in this passionate and intense connection, each of us taking as much as the other is giving in the exchange. Christian finally pulls his lips from mine, completely spent and breathless.

"Oh, God, Baby, please, stop..." he begs against my lips, fighting to catch his breath. I feel his erection pressing against me. I kiss his cheek, his neck, his ear, anywhere my lips will reach. His eyes roll back in his head as he relishes my kisses against his skin. I lift my skirt and wrap my legs around his waist.

"Ana... no... not here, Baby!" he protests.

"Yes! Now! Please!" I beg. He groans deep in his chest and carries me to the darkest corner of the dimly lit patio. Still holding me up, he reaches around me and unzips his pants, releasing his massive erection. I only feel him for a moment against my butt before he uses the head of his steel-hard rod to move my panties aside and impale my sex. I gasp loudly as he fills me.

"Turn around," I whisper, "you... against the wall..." He turns around and steadies himself against the wall, and I use my arms and legs to ride him while he's standing.

"Ah, fuck!" he hisses as quietly as he can. I bounce hard, deep, and fast on his erection and he moans mournfully.

"Ana, slow down, Baby... I'm not... going to last," he warns. I know this, and I don't care. This is for him. I want him to feel good.

"Come for me, Christian," I purr, still grinding onto his throbbing sex.

"Ana, please... slow... what about..." He can't even finish a sentence.

"Come on, Baby. Come for me..." I hiss as I bite his earlobe and drop down on his erection again.

"Aaaah, fu..." I cover his mouth with mine as I feel him release violently into me. His groans become whimpers as he spurs me on, holding my hips against his and pouring himself into me. I wiggle slightly with him inside of me while flexing my muscles around him. He shudders deeply while sliding down the wall to the floor with me still wrapped around him. That's it, Baby. Enjoy it. Give it all to me. When I hear him fighting for breath, I slowly remove my lips from his.

"Oh God... Ana... that was incredible," he says, his forehead against mine. He takes a few moments to catch his breath before kissing me deeply again. "What about you, Baby?" I smile sweetly, satisfied in a way that I can't explain right now.

"I'm just fine for now," I purr. "Take care of me later." He smiles a devilish smile.

"Oh, I so intend to," he says before kissing me again.

We quickly rise from the floor of the patio before inquiring minds want to know what's taking so long. Christian quickly situates himself while I sneak off to the restroom to freshen up before joining the family again. We finish our socializing and discussions before excusing ourselves for the night to retire back to Escala. Christian wants me to be at Grey House in the morning when Rashon and Joseph arrive to start work so that I can show Rashon around and he can take Joseph. I also have to finalize everything for the wedding/party next week and I want no mistakes. Mandy's bitchy sister will be coming into town the day of the party and she is none too happy about not being in the wedding. Hell if I'm going to let her do anything to ruin it, though.

* * *

_**GREY**_

This woman is incredible... magnificent. I almost can't believe how much I love her. When I hear Valerie speak about how the crew feel about her, I can see it so clearly. It's actually pretty amazing, in fact, that one person can bring out such strong emotion in so many people. I shouldn't be surprised. Butterfly is an extraordinary woman, after all.

I can't believe what she just did—climbed up on me and made me come so hard and so fast that my legs went right out from under me! Damn—and she didn't even come! She just got me off in magnificent fashion, then sauntered away to the restroom. I spend the rest of the evening just thinking about the many ways that I plan to make her scream.

… And make her scream, I did.

From the foyer to the great room to the kitchen to the hallway into the bedroom, I loved every single part of that woman—from her scalp to her toenails. Nothing was left unkissed, untouched, or unloved. I sexed and loved her so deeply for so long that she begged me to stop and fell asleep before I even finished... Poor thing.

I allowed her to sleep for as long as possible the next morning before I simply had to wake her. Grey House's newest employees are starting today and I want us both to welcome them.

"Butterfly," I whisper in her ear as I stroke her hair away from her face. "Wake up, Baby." She whimpers a bit then rolls over to look sleepily into my eyes.

"What time is it?" She asks.

"It's 8:00. We have to get dressed and get to Grey House." She stretches then flinches and moans a bit. "What's wrong, Baby?" I ask concerned.

"I'm sore!" she proclaims. "You fucked me within an inch of my life last night." I snicker a bit.

"Do you want me to massage you, Baby?" She looks at me, sarcasm oozing from her pores.

"You can't massage me where I'm sore, Christian. It will just make me more sore." I frown at her. More sore? Then it dawns on me.

"Oh!" I laugh a little. "Well, then you have just enough time for a short bath... and I promise I won't massage you." I wink at her.

After our bath and a wonderful but quick breakfast, we are in the SUV on our way to Grey House. This is quite comfortable and I could really get used to it... Riding in to work with Butterfly. She's looking at her iPhone and I am looking at my blackberry—two young professionals getting ready for the day.

"So how is your day looking?" I ask her.

"Well, I deliberately left today open so that Mandy and I could finalize everything for the party after I'm done at Grey House this morning, but I always expect to have an emergency appointment from one of my patients who had to maintain themselves from killing a relative over the holidays."

"How's that looking?"

"So far so good. No catastrophes ye... oh my God!" I guess she spoke too soon.

"What is it, Butterfly?" I ask concerned. She taps away at her phone and shortly after, by blackberry buzzes. I open her text to find that she has sent me a link. When I open the link, it is an article from the Las Vegas Review Journal:

_**Local Businessman Found Dead in Downtown Motel**_

I look over at Butterfly and then back down at my phone.

_**A Henderson businessman appears to have taken his own life after a bout of depression over his struggling business and a recent investigation into his possible involvement in corrupt business practices as well as a massive cover-up of a beating and murder 11 years ago. **_

_**Police found 57-year-old Franklin Whitmore, insurance executive and owner of Rancher's Insurance, dead at 1:42pm yesterday at the Placid Motel on Main St. An anonymous call to 911 informed police that from outside of the motel, a body could be seen hanging in one of the rooms. Police arrived to find Whitmore's body hanging from one of the exposed pipes in the ceiling in room 15. **_

_**At the time of his death, Whitmore was under investigation on several counts of fraud and embezzlement as well as possible witness tampering and bribery. It appears that Whitmore hanged himself wearing nothing but a pair of Silvano Lattanzi Italian leather designer shoes. The shoes retail at $5000 a pair. A note assumed to be a suicide note was left on his bed that simply read "And now my humiliation is complete." **_

_**There is some speculation as to Whitmore's involvement in a current case of obstruction involving the vicious beating that left a teenage girl in a coma for several weeks and resulted in the death of her unborn child. **_

_**Whitmore's family has not been contacted for comment at this time. **_

"Oh, boy," I murmur under my breath. Facing the possibility of losing his stature and fortune as well as the likelihood of landing in prison, Whitmore chose to check out instead. I look over at Butterfly who hasn't commented yet. "Baby, are you okay?" I ask cautiously.

Butterfly twists her lips. "Yeah, I'm fine," she responds coolly. "I guess I should have expected him to take the coward's way out," she added. This situation has hardened Butterfly, but only when it comes down to those Green Valley fuckers.

"How did you find out about it?" I question.

"I have a Google alert on Sullivan and Whitmore as they relate to Green Valley," she answered flatly. "The shoes," she turns to look at me. "You?"

My turn to twist my lips. "Yes. It was... a conversation that we had when I last saw him... about cheap shoes." She looks back down at her phone and nods.

"Nice touch." That's the last she said about it.

* * *

After a more careful review of Joseph's resume, my supervisor in warehousing saw that Joseph has a lot of untapped talent and should actually be a warehouse manager. This, of course, made Joseph happy since managers are all salaried employees with an excellent benefits package. Ros immediately found a spot for Rashon. She turns out to be very organized and efficient and, much like her husband, under-utilized. Butterfly showed her the daycare center, fitness center, massage therapy room, sauna, full-service dining area, yoga studio, and nap pods for those pulling longer hours before coming back to my office.

"Rashon was very pleased with the yoga studio. I didn't know that you had one of those here." she says as she sits on the sofa in my office.

"I didn't either. I mean, I knew, I just didn't remember. I never do yoga," I laugh. She removes her shoes and flexes her toes. I sit next to her and put her feet on my lap.

"Mmm, that feels good," she purrs as I massage her feet.

"Are you sure you're okay, Butterfly?" I ask, watching her carefully. She raises her head and looks at me bemused.

"I'm fine, why do you ask?" she inquires.

"One of your tells that something is wrong is that you take off your shoes. I never forgot that you told me that you could do anything in stilettos—and you proved it to me, too." I smile at her and she blushes. "Also, you know... the news about Whitmore." She quickly throws her hand at me.

"Trust me, _that_ doesn't bother me. Look at the legacy that he has left behind. He's a crook who tried to hide a rape, assault and murder and when it came time to pay the piper, he checked out instead of facing it like a man. Oh, and how did they find him—in a motel room wearing nothing but a pair of shoes. Who's going to _that _funeral? No, I can guarantee that I'm losing no sleep whatsoever over that!" She stretches like a cat and I immediately want to fuck her again. "If you want to know why I took my shoes off, it's because my feet hurt. I've been walking around for hours. Yes, I can do anything in stilettos, but I do occasionally take a break."

Well, at least nothing is wrong.

"Do you have time to have lunch with me?" I ask.

I have the kitchen send up a chicken Caesar salad, bruschetta brushed with garlic olive oil, mozzarella and tomatoes, and cold lemonade. We enjoy a leisurely lunch together as well as each other's time and then it is off to meet Mandy for my Butterfly. I give her a kiss and send her off with Chuck.

Butterfly hasn't left my office five minutes ago and I get a somewhat frantic call from Jason.

"Sir! I think you should... shit, that had to hurt! Get down here, Christian! Fuck!" What the hell is going on down there?

"Jason, what the fuck?" I exclaim. I know he wouldn't have me walking into danger, but he better tell me what the hell is going on.

"I need... I need help, Sir, get down here!"

"Jason, if you don't tell me what the fuck is going on..." I stand and start walking to the door.

"Get her off of him! She's going to kill him!" Shit! I know that sound. I take off in a sprint to the elevator, but I have to wait for it since Butterfly took it to the first floor before me. I put my key and code in, turning the elevator into an express elevator taking me straight to the lobby. The whole trip probably took eight seconds, but it still seemed too long. In the agonizing seconds that it takes for the elevator to open, I can hear Butterfly's voice—low and dripping with venom—followed by the unmistakable click of her stilettos on marble. I bend the corner to see several members of my security silently standing around, looking at each other, the door, and something on the floor of the lobby.

"What the fuck happened here?" I bellow as I try to assess the scene before me. There's lots of blood on the marble... and Butterfly is not here. "Where the fuck is Anastasia?"

"She left, Sir," Jason says, calmly.

"She left? What do you mean she left? You call me in a frenzy and I come rushing down here to find blood all over the damn floor and no Ana. Why did you let her leave?" I'm nearly screaming now.

"Christian, not you or wild horses could make her stay in this building one more second with _that!" _He's pointing to something—or someone, I should say—lying on the floor on the other side of the guards' station. All I can see are slacks and feet, and I get a really bad feeling.

"What was Ana saying before she left?" I ask Jason. Very coolly, he responds,

"'Tell Christian that my rapist is here."

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Sure enough, I walk around the guards' station to get a good look at the man lying there bloody, beaten, and unconscious.

Cody fucking Whitmore.

* * *

_**A/N: For my beloved grammar folk, yes, the word is "hanged," but only when you are talking about the past tense of hanging a human being. Otherwise, the word is "hung."**_

_**Pictures of places, cars, fashion, etc can be found at pinterest ladeeceo/mending-dr-steele/**_

_**Shoot me over an email at divinebronzegoddess at gmail . com (no spaces of course and use the "at" sign) to join my mailing list and stay up to date on blogs, publishing of my stories, etc.**_

_**Feel free to review—it is greatly appreciated.**_

_**Love and Handcuffs!  
Lynn x**_


	12. Goodbye 2012

_**Wow! Those tan and black Jimmy Choo shoes were a really big hit on Pinterest! So glad you all liked them. And now... Happy New Year! One more bonus chapter! My time after this won't allow for it again for a while, but since I didn't have Christmas and New Year's Day off, I wanted to give my readers a little extra gift. Still catching up on reviews! **_

_**All disclaimers apply here... let the character mangling begin!**_

**Chapter 12—Goodbye 2012**

_**STEELE**_

Am I seeing this right? Am I really seeing this right? I am frozen in my spot as I swear that I see a ghost standing at the guards' station casually asking for information. I can't be seeing this correctly... he _can't_ be here. I walk away from the elevator and proceed slowly further into the lobby like a cat stalking her prey. This bastard is _not _in my city. How dare he show his face here!

"Ana, what's wrong?" Chuck says from behind me. At the mention of my name, he raises his head and our eyes meet... and he smiles at me! The fucker smiles at me! I am absolutely horrified. He looks at me in a sinister, knowing way that sears my stomach. For a moment, I can't move.

"Ana, who is that?" Chuck says, but I can't respond. I start to float over to him, or at least that's what it felt like because I can't feel my feet touch the ground. I can hear Chuck behind me...

"Jason, you better get down here. I think we've got a situation..."

He steps around the guards' desk until we are face-to-face.

"Anastasia Steele. It's been a long time," he says, his voice taunting. I dare not say his name. I am stuck in a bit of a stupor. How can he be here. "What's the matter, Darling? Cat got your tongue?" No, you sick asshole. I just can't for the life of me fathom why you would dare come to my state... to my city... to my boyfriend's damn building! Do you have a death wish? I'm thinking these things but nothing is coming out of my mouth.

"Same old Ana," he jeers. He leans in to my ear. "Funny, I don't remember you being so quiet when I popped that sweet cherry of yours."

I swear I don't remember what happened next.

Time went by in a bit of a haze and all I can remember thinking is that I wanted to rip his fucking throat out so that he couldn't talk anymore, the sick fuck. Unfortunately, ripping someone's throat out is not easy if you don't have the correct equipment for the job, but I gave it a try anyway. I remember hearing someone say, "Okay, that's enough! He's down!" I don't know if it was Jason or Chuck or one of the other guys. All I know is that his ass was lying on the floor, I saw blood, and he wasn't moving. I looked at the stunned faces of the gentlemen around me, and the body lying on the floor before me.

"You should have kept your ass in Green Valley! She who laughs last laughs best, Whitshit!" I say before spitting in his unconscious face. I look up at Jason. "Tell Christian that my rapist is here." I turn around military style and rush out of the building, putting as much space between me and Whitshit as possible.

Chuck rushes to one of the Audis and quickly opens the door for me. I bolt into the passenger seat and quickly fasten my seat belt. He is in the driver's seat in seconds.

"Where to, Ana?" he asks.

"Escala. I need to clean up." He pulls out of the parking garage and merges into traffic. We are not driving two minutes when I hear "Love All The Hurt Away" playing on my phone.

"Yes, Christian?" I answer calmly. He is quiet for a moment—so quiet that I think he may have butt-dialed me.

"Anastasia?" I don't know if his tone is angry, confused, or concerned.

"Yes, Christian?" I repeat.

"Ana... I think you broke his jaw."

"So?" I state flatly. "He killed my baby which by the way was also _his_ baby. I'd hardly say that we're even." I hear Christian sigh on the other end.

"What do you need?" he asks resigned.

"Him the fuck out of Seattle, but right now I need to go home and change so that I can meet with Mandy."

"Will you be okay, Baby?" Now I hear the concern.

"I'm not sure yet, but I'll let you know," I say honestly.

"Please let me know what you need... the moment you know what it is... okay?" He feels displaced right now. He is out of his element because he doesn't quite know how to help me.

"The very moment," I promise him. "Right now, get him out of Seattle. I don't care if it's in pieces in a body bag right now. Get him out of Seattle. If I see him again, he's a dead man."

"Will do, Baby," Christian says calmly. I end the call without saying anything else. That's something that I never do with Christian and I'm not sure why I did it then. A few moments later, Chuck's phone rings and he taps his bluetooth.

"Davenport... Yes... I do... You got it." That was the whole conversation.

"Jason?" I ask. Although I don't turn my head, I can see him glance at me in my peripheral.

"Yes," he responds flatly.

"He told you to keep an eye on me?" I inquire, still not looking at him.

"Yes." I pause for a moment.

"Okay."

* * *

I get back to Escala and text Mandy that I will be about 20 minutes late. I go to the bedroom, strip, and take a quick but scalding hot shower, including washing my hair. After clean underwear, I don my black Earnest Sewn Harlan skinny jeans with a cream cashmere cowl-neck sweater and my black Roberto Cavalli black studded leather knee-high boots. I dry my hair quickly and put it in a messy bun. At the last minute, I grab Christian's Pierotucci black Italian leather bomber jacket. I put all of the clothes that I wore that day, including the underwear, in a trash bag and drop it down the garbage chute on my way out of the apartment with Chuck.

It must have been written all over my face—I wasn't putting up with any shit today. The decorator, planner, boutique, baker, and caterer were all spot-on with our final preparations and no one gave us one bit of trouble. Even the DJ returned the song list with a perfect mix of music for Dad and Mandy as well as for an upscale but fun New Years Eve party. Mandy was getting the elegant winter wonderland that she wanted, Dad was getting his Budweiser, and we were getting to throw a fantastic New Years Eve party/wedding. Now to get the sister here with no incident.

Lexia is Mandy's little sister and, from what I'm told, "Mom's favorite." She's the one that went to college and married and had children while Mandy couldn't wait to leave home and be on her own, making her own way in the world without a man up to this point—much like me. Her sister has spent many years making Mandy feel like an unwanted spinster and her mother is just very self-centered. Needless to say, Mandy hasn't had much contact with them.

Because they are her only relatives to speak of besides more distant relations, Mandy opted to invite the ladies to the wedding/party. She is fairly certain that her mother won't attend as she can't be bothered with events that involve the "lesser" daughter. Her mother and my mother sound like they could be best friends. Lexia however would not miss the opportunity to see who her sister is finally marrying and, as Mandy has pointed out, the opportunity to show her up at her own wedding. I have promised Mandy that I will behave during her wedding, but I have also made it clear that I will have that harpy removed if she causes any problems. This is luckily something that we agree on.

After approving the last few items needed for the wedding, Mandy is exhausted and decides to go home for some rest. I take this moment to review Maxie and Phil's guest list and tell them that they each need to skim 20 people from the list if they want to use the venue that they have chosen. Like it or not, they will have do-drops... every wedding does. I have also double-checked that the next fitting for Maxie's gown and the bridesmaids dresses will be the first week of January. I will be glad when Dad and Mandy's wedding is over so that I can concentrate on Maxie's. I don't want to forget anything.

I am leaving "Things Remembered" in the Southcenter Mall after picking up some items that I wanted to use as party favors on New Years Eve and I am shocked to see a familiar face just a few feet in front of me. As Chuck and I headed towards the exit, we get a glimpse of the one and only Elena Lincoln—being ceremoniously escorted out of Nordstrom! I would have paid money to have seen what that was all about. Instead, I gesture to Chuck to stay back while She-Thing straightens her clothes and heads towards the exit. I wait a few moments, hoping that the has made her way to whatever Pedo-mobile that she's driving these days before we make our way out of the mall.

I should have waited longer.

Apparently, Pedo-Bitch's chariot had not yet arrived when Chuck and I exited the mall. She is standing right next to the fire lane waiting for her ride and our eyes meet squarely when I walk out the door. She doesn't dare say a word to me with the no-contact order in place and I have absolutely nothing to say to her. I roll my eyes dramatically and walk away from her, putting a little switch in my hips to show her exactly what Christian is riding these days. You can't touch me, Bitch. You've got problems of your own.

It's about 6:30 when I have finished all of my errands for both weddings and Chuck and I make our way back to Escala. When we step into the great room, Christian comes out of his office like he has been searching for something all evening and freezes when he sees me.

"You changed," he says, flatly.

"Yes, I did," I respond.

"May I ask why?"

"To forget what I was wearing this day and to never wear it again—which I already have since the entire ensemble is now somewhere in the garbage pile in the basement." His face softens immediately. "Is he gone?" I add.

"Yes," he responds. "You're wearing my jacket." I look down at the oversized bomber jacket.

"Yes, I am," I respond. He walks slowly over to me and I notice that Chuck has stealthily disappeared.

"You look hot," he says, coming still closer to me.

"Really?" I ask, matter-of-factly.

"Really," he responds closing the space between us. "You in my jacket—it's like I've been hugging you all day, and those boots... very provocative."

"You don't say?" I say, cocking my head to the side.

"Um-hmm." He is now standing right in front of me. "And these jeans..." He runs his hands down my hips and up the back of my thighs until they perfectly cup my ass, pulling me against his rock hard body. "They're like a second skin."

"Yeah?" I breathe.

"Yeah," he says, closing his lips over mine. I couldn't possibly have sex tonight... he damn near killed me last night. As if he were reading my mind, Christian croons, "Wanna make out?"

"Um-hmm," I purr as I tangle my fingers in his hair and he claims my lips again. Dragging me over to the sofa without breaking our kiss, he pushes his jacket off my shoulders and sits down taking me with him and straddling my legs on either side of him as we make out. We are biting, nibbling, kissing, and feeling each other for hours—straight past dinner, which we _never_ do—and into the night. After lots of first base and second base kissing and petting, we turn in for the night and I fall asleep wrapped in Christian's arms.

In the days that followed, the rest of the Scooby Gang finds time to talk to Christian separately. Each of them had come to me—like Valerie—expressing concern that the relationship they had forged with Christian was permanently destroyed. Maxie is the toughest, though. Her attacks were more personal, and Christian is having a harder time looking over what she did. She is prepared to grovel for as long as is necessary as even though she swears that her intentions were honorable, she knows that she grossly overstepped her bounds. She got all caught up in the "doctor" thing and threw everyone else's opinion aside if they didn't match hers.

… And Christian doesn't take kindly to being bullied.

He is particularly protective of me, and anyone who doesn't see eye-to-eye with him when it comes down to me had better approach with caution. I can't help but wonder if he's going to have a problem with Maxie still being my therapist. I confide quite a bit in her, but he doesn't know that I don't discuss our relationship much with her. I save that for our sessions with Dr. Baker. Maybe if I had discussed them more with her, she would have understood Christian's reaction a little better. I ponder that thought a bit and my mind immediately drifts back to a conversation that I had with Christian about why I wouldn't do joint sessions with Flynn.

I had asked him exactly how much progress he had made with John over all of the years that he had been seeing him. I knew that John was a fantastic sounding board, but sounding boards most often listen—allow you to bounce ideas off of them and actually come to your own conclusions. How could he possibly have been a good judge of character? If he's working on a personal issue of not being trusting of people in general, then how can he be open-minded and objective when you speak to him?

I had reminded him that I know that in this profession, there has to be a healthy amount of skepticism, but general overall mistrust is a different thing. It didn't matter that it was Christian. If I had a friend or a family member or a colleague or anybody that told me that they were seeing a psychiatrist that had inherent trust issues with everyone that they met, I would tell them to find another psychiatrist. I can't even imagine being effective at my job if every time someone sat across from me, I approach the session and the person with distrust. If that were the case, I would need to be the person sitting in that seat and someone else would need to be the person examining my head!

This train of thought of course dominoes down to our first meeting with Dr. Baker. Good Lord, that was one for the books! It was two weeks after Christian fired Flynn. Christian hadn't seen another therapist since he was a teenager. He knew that it was necessary but hell, it was about as comfortable as a pap smear! We had to rehash the things that brought us to the meeting because Flynn had yet to release Christian's records, and Christian was none to keen about it. I remember Dr. Baker watching him intently as he spoke. She was examining him, reading his body language. She was more traditional and textbook in some of her approaches, but contemporary in others. For example, she allowed me and Christian to talk about things—particularly the fight over Flynn—and she just watched our interaction. She knew that she would get a more realistic reaction from our conversation than she would from an interview session.

Boy, was she right!

Christian had become very emotional about the fight and the silent treatment, and not in a good way. I was quite defensive about my feelings, how Flynn treated me, and my resulting reaction. As the interaction became more heated, Dr. Baker tried to interject in an effort to calm the situation a bit and, in usual Fifty fashion, Christian took his Dom stance let her have it.

Not a good move, Grey.

This seemingly meek woman slammed her portfolio onto a nearby end table, snatched off her glasses and let Mr. Grey know exactly where he stood in her office:

"_Now you wait just one minute! You decided that you wanted _my_ help. I didn't seek you out, you sought me. Now I understand that you have some fresh issues and new feelings that you may be dealing with, and I don't know how your previous therapist handled you, but make no mistake. I will not be mistreated or belittled by you. I will not tell you what you want to hear, I will tell you what you _need_ to hear. You may or may not like it, and you may or may not choose to accept it, but you will hear it and you will not disrespect me for doing my job. If you do not wish to hear what I have to say or ever feel that you no longer need my assistance, feel free to leave voluntarily. However, if you ever take that tone or stance in my office again, I will have you forcibly removed. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Grey?" _

Needless to say, Christian immediately remembered his station in this particular setting and returned to his seat. The problem was that getting him to open up for any more of that session was a feat befitting Hercules himself. By the end of it, we were both completely exhausted and actually slept in different rooms that night—only because I went to bed right after dinner and he fell asleep face down on his desk.

Now, he's face-to-face with another shrink, only this time he's attempting to mend a broken relationship. He doesn't like shrinks as it is, so Maxine has an uphill battle on her hands. We'll just have to see if she thinks it's worth the trip.

The calls and emails from Mr. St. John continue between Christmas and New Years. He simply will not take "no" for an answer and he is willing to take whatever verbal lashing that I will give him in order to get me to come and give Melanie her proverbial "last rites." I have taken to allowing most calls to go to voice mail, which means that my voice mail gets full quite quickly with St. John begging me to come and put the bitch out of her misery. I don't see why he can't get it—why he can't see that I simply can_not_ see that woman again. What the hell is wrong with this man?

Of course, everyone only sees their own suffering, and he is suffering watching her suffer, so there's your answer to that.

Speaking of "their own suffering," I haven't told anyone about my own trust issues that need to be mended. Oh, I've touched on it with Maxie, but not to any extreme degree. My trust issues are nothing like Flynn's as his issues seem unfounded. I just have a slight problem believing people sometimes when they approach me for something. Christian lied to me when he was going to Green Valley to investigate what happened to me. I understand why he went and I could totally see myself feverishly trying to keep him from going had he told me the truth. My problem is that he was so convincing when he lied that it shattered my faith in my own gut instincts. With all of the fallout and the aftermath of the whole situation, I don't believe that he would lie to me again, but now I'm having a hard time trusting my own judgment.

Then there's George Sullivan, an authority figure that I looked up to and it turns out that his intentions were all self-centered. He was looking out for himself under the guise of looking out for me. I really thought that he had my back. I really thought that he was doing everything that he could to find out what happened to me. I can't believe how naïve I was about the whole thing.

Let's not forget dear old Mom and Stepdad. Yeah, what they have done to me is enough to crush my faith in humankind forever.

So I'm still working on mending my anger and dare I say it, my fear. I have the occasional nightmare about being drugged when I was kidnapped—that momentary feeling of helplessness right before you black out that comes with knowing that something bad is about to happen and you can't do anything to stop it. Granted I don't wake up screaming, but it does cause me some unease late in the midnight hour.

Whenever I am extremely upset, angry, or I feel completely out of control, Harris pops up in my dreams from time to time. I know that he's a manifestation of my subconscious, and when he visits me, we have it out and I awake knowing that I need to fix whatever it is that is going on outside of the dream realm—you know, out here in the real world. One of his famous appearances was the catalyst for mending mine and Christian's relationship after Flynngate. I wonder how he would feel knowing that his psycho ass is actually helping me find clarity in my time of confusion. He's probably rolling over in his grave!

I also see David's face at inopportune times—not during sex, thank God, but I might see him lying next to me every now and again. I don't know what that's about and it gives me the damn creeps!

I'm doing my best to function and deal with my anger and issues, but it's a little difficult when you add in the fact that we are knee-deep in the Green Valley issue, Whitshit showed up the day after Christmas, and St. John keeps calling me begging for mercy for his criminal mistress. I really need some rest and relaxation and I just don't know how I'm ever going to find it...or _when!_

* * *

_**GREY**_

Again, I am watching her sleep. Her father's wedding in this evening and I have nearly mended all of the burned bridges with her friends... except for Maxine. I don't know what it's going to take to get back on track with that one. Every time I think about trying to let go of my grudge, I hear her ass telling me that she will make an enemy of me and take Butterfly out of my apartment with or without my cooperation. People that say things like that to me in my life end up ruined, fired, blackballed, broke, you name it. Here's this woman basically threatening me in regards to one of the most precious things in my life and I can't do anything about it. What's more, I'm supposed to forgive her for it because she's Butterfly's best friend and therapist.

…

... Yeah, I'll ponder that a while longer.

I have a meeting with Dr. Baker this morning before we get heavily into the setting up of the party/wedding. Call it a moment to get rid of the last of the old year's baggage. I kiss Butterfly's shoulder and rise out of bed. Her day will be busy enough when it's time for her to wake up. I put on some gym clothes and head down to the fitness center. I'm on my fifth mile on the treadmill when last Wednesday's events replay in my mind...

"_Wake him up." I growl at Jason. He has had two of the members of the security staff drag this piece of shit into the conference and out of the view of prying eyes. Maintenance is cleaning the trail of blood from my lobby and Jason stands over Whitmore with a bucket of ice water that soon found its way to Whitmore's face, head, and suit. He bolts upright from the shock of the cold water, but he is clearly in pain as his jaw looks like it is nearly separated from his face. _

"_Whish wuth o' you fuckuth thit me?" he mutters through his nearly immobile mouth. Well, not sure what's going on with his face, but I don't think his jaw is broken since he can talk._

"_Yeah, that would be the little lady in the stilettos," I respond. "She's the one that left you unconscious and bleeding in my lobby." His eyes grow big. _

"_Yure thying!" he accuses. This would be funny if I weren't so pissed off. _

"_Look, Asshole. I don't give a fuck why you're here or what you believe. My woman told me to get you the fuck out of Seattle or she was going to kill you, and believe me when I tell you that she can."_

"_Thee caint do sthit ta me!" Who the fuck does he think he's talking to? _

"_May I, Boss?" Jason asks and I nod. He bends down and gets in Whitmore's face. "She did _this _to you. If I or any of my guys had gotten hold of you, you wouldn't be talking, you wouldn't be moving, and I can't even guarantee that you would be _breathing_. So I suggest that you shut the fuck up and listen to Mr. Grey and be careful what you say about Ms. Steele because any one of these gentlemen in this room would be very happy to finish what she started." _

_Whitmore shrinks a bit and looks from face to face of the men in the room glaring at him. When his eyes come back to me, I stoop down to him and rest my arms on my knees. _

"_That little woman trains regularly with a 6th Dan in Krav Magna. She can take down any man in this room one-on-one so you were child's play for her. If that's not enough for you, she's licensed to carry a concealed weapon. She has three of them—one of which is a 9mm glock. She carries one of them on her at all times since her unfortunate encounter with a psycho ex, so you're lucky that you didn't get shot—but stick around and you just might." I say coolly. He doesn't show any fear, but I can tell that he's not stupid either. _

"_My futhar. He'th dead." I rise to my feet. _

"_So?" I respond. His eyes grow large. _

"_Yu inthenthitif athhole! Ma futhar fuckin keeld himthelf! How cuthu be tho crull?" Now, I'm on fire. _

"_About as cruel as you were when you raped my girlfriend, you mean? When you and your friends beat her half to death, pissed on her, branded her, and killed her baby? You mean _that _cruel?" I'm screaming at him and Jason has to literally hold me back. "I saw the video, you chickenshit asswipe. I saw everything that you did to her!" His face turns completely white; even the black and blue parts go a little pale. _

"_Vitheo?" he asks in disbelief. _

"_Yeah, video. I can tell you about it now because there's nothing that you can do. There's no money that you can get your hands on, you can't run or hide, and with the investigation into your father's business dealings and you being so-called primed to take over the company, I'm certain that the authorities have their eye on you, too. No doubt they even know that you're here right now—but Ana and I have the final nail in your coffin. We have the video." _

"_Buth... how...?" he asks. I fold my arms. "Carthy?" _

"_No. Your little jilted bitch didn't turn it over. It would have meant turning herself in, too. Her cousin Melanie turned it over. She sought out Ana to tell her the truth about what happened and she turned the video over to her as a last act of redemption. She's dying of Hodgkin's Lymphoma and she doesn't have much time left, so she gave us the last piece of the puzzle that we needed to identify every last one of you fuckers, which is exactly what we did. We know where every last one of you are right now. We know who's dead and who's still alive. We know who changed their names, who tried to change their identities and we even know who's living abroad. We know about your families, your sexual preferences, and when you take a piss! When we are done, we are going to bring every last one of you fuckers down." He is horrified. He knows that we have him by the balls. _

"_Pleeth, leev uth alone. Leth uth grief my futhar..." Yet another one begging for mercy... and I feel nothing. _

"_Get your ass out of Seattle. You don't have the right to ask us for shit, and you won't find mercy here. Go get your face fixed and get out of our fucking state."_

"_Yu caint do thith! Yu caint! I'll tell efrything I know... to anybudy who will lithen! Yu caint do thisth to me... to ma family!" _

"_Your life is mine!" I bark at him. "No matter what you tell the press or what you do from this point on, you belong to me. If you carry your ass to the hospital, get your fucking jaw fixed, and quietly get the hell out of Seattle, we will let you live these next few weeks out in miserable peace. Bury your fucking father and spend time with your family while you can because your nightmares are just beginning. The only question is do you want them to start now, or do you want a reprieve for a while?" Glassy blue eyes stare back at me and I swear that he's going to cry. Still, I feel nothing. _

"_Yu dith thisth to ma futhar... dint yu?" he asks coolly. _

"_No, he did this to himself. He had all the shading dealings, Ponzi schemes, and phantom holding companies. He's the one who bribed a drunk and a half-ass mother to bring a poor tormented girl back to hell for fear that she would let the cat out of the bag for what _you _did to her. I would love to take credit for his downfall... and yours, but quite frankly, you all did this on your own." I pause. I have nothing else to say to this piece of shit. "I'm having you followed. You have until 6:00 to get the fuck out of Seattle. If you're not gone by then, I'm coming for you." I turn to Jason. "Get him the fuck out of my building, and make sure he gets the fuck out of my city, too."_

Whitmore was out of Seattle that day by 6:00 as threatened. I don't doubt that he went back to Green Valley to try to hunt down some of his partners in crime from that fateful night, so I make sure that security is a bit tighter until Butterfly decides when she wants to deliver the video to the Nevada authorities. I know that we are planning a trip sometime just after the New Year so that she can finally tell her story and give them the damning evidence that they need. We just haven't etched it in stone yet.

I'm broken from my thoughts by the sound of the door opening. In walks this hot little woman in a sports bra and a pair of shorts so small that I can easily see her ass. Damn! How do they expect men to work out in the same room with women dressed like that? I nearly fall off the damn treadmill and now I'm fighting to prevent a massive fucking boner.

"You should have woke me up," Butterfly says as she dons a pair of gloves. "I have a feeling I'm going to have a rough day ahead of me."

"How so?" I ask.

"Well, so far everybody is doing what they are supposed to be doing, but I can guarantee you that some fucker is going to piss me off today, so just get ready for it." She steps over to the bag and starts to give it a serious working over—and it's turning me on so much I can hardly think. I stop the treadmill for a moment and send a text to Jason, then I stand back and watch her reign blows on this bag like the pro that she is. A few minutes later, Jason sticks his head in the door. I nod and he leaves, closing the door behind him. I put on a pair of wrestling gloves and a helmet and get on the mat, attracting Butterfly's attention.

"Come on," I beckon her. She stills the bag.

"You're kidding, right?" she asks, incredulously.

"You said you can take anybody down. Let's see what you got," I taunt.

"In a _fight, _Christian, not wrestling," she protests.

"Are you afraid? Come on, I won't hurt you." I knew that would do it. She snatches off the gloves and changes into wrestling gloves.

"You are such a fucking child sometimes," she spit as she walks over to the mat, puts on a helmet, and takes her stance. "Rules?"

"No rules," I say. I've got plans for you.

"You'll want rules with me," she warns. Oh, we're feeling confident!

"Fine. Falls count anywhere. No unnecessary roughness or unsportsmanlike conduct; no grabbing clothes or the mat to control the opponent. Takedowns and reversals count for two points—escape counts for one. Three rounds to 10 points or pin—best two out of three is the winner." She nods.

"Okay, so basically, no rules." She takes her stance. I shake my head and take my stance as well. Being the bigger of the two of us, I give her the benefit of the doubt and go on the offensive. I aim straight for her center of gravity and of course, she was expecting that. She moves her little feet out of the way so fast that I almost tumble off the mat when I lunge for her. I turn around to look at her, shock most likely lacing my expression.

"Don't be predictable, Grey," she says, now back in stance and waiting for my next move. Okay, you got it, Madame Butterfly. I quickly grab one of her legs and snatch it out from under her. She falls flat on the mat on her back with an "umph" and I stand next to her looking down at her stunned face.

"That's two for me," I say offering her my hand to help her up. She begrudgingly takes my hand and gets to her feet. She stretches her arms a bit and I know that hit knocked the wind out of her. She is back in position and the melee starts again. I manage to get her on her back again, not so easily this time, and declare two more points. She didn't accept my proffered hand this time. She does some kind of windmill-type kick that sweeps my feet and I am on the ground on my back! What the fuck?

"That's two," she says springing to her feet.

"Wrestling, Ana, not kick-boxing," I protest. She shrugs.

"You didn't say that I couldn't kick," she defends flatly. Fine. Have it your way.

I get back into stance and we are both waiting for the other to make a move. The standoff lasts for about a minute when Butterfly stands up to ask what the hell I planned to do. Before the words are completely out of her mouth, I have her around the waist again, taking her down once more. Almost like she anticipated the move, she curls her body and bends her legs to avoid going flat on the mat. I attempt to crawl over her, but I must admit that I have never had an opponent so small. She turns underneath me like a wire—like I wasn't even there. She's on her stomach attempting to get to her knees and I can't help it. I wrap my arms around her and clasp my hands firmly on her ample breasts.

"Get your fucking hands off my tits!" she barks as she bends my wrist back to break my hold.

"Fuck!" I yelp at the pain and release, but not before pushing the back of her head down towards to the mat to prevent her from escaping the hold.

… Or so I thought.

Somehow, she curls up under me and scrambles out of the hold. Before I know it, she's standing on her side of the mat, a bit out of breath and glaring at me.

"That's one for me. Come on, Grey." Shit! She's better than I thought! I get to my feet and prepare to engage again. We are hitting each other's open hands whenever one tries to reach for the other. I finally grab her in a bear hug around her arms and she is struggling feverishly to get away from me. She is working up a sweat in her futile attempt to escape and the more her body writhes against me, the more turned on I get.

"You are so sexy when you're mad," I taunt.

"Fuck you!" she hisses, still struggling.

"Promise?" I goad.

"Asshole!" she spits, nearly wiggling out of my grasp.

"Wrong angle!" I shoot back grasping her around the waist and pushing her against the wall. She's beating me on my shoulders trying to find a weak spot anywhere, but the more she fights, the more I want her. She wraps her legs around my waist and begins to squeeze. The move isn't sensual, it's painful—but it still spurs my libido for some reason.

"Stop it!" I warn pinning her arms to her body again, and in her anger, she apparently can't feel my dick throbbing angrily and beating a merciless tattoo between our bodies.

"Or what?" she growls threatening, squeezing her legs tighter around me. Shit, that hurts! So much for unsportsmanlike conduct.

Faster than she can protest, I release her arms, slide her shorts and panties to the side, free Greystone and thrust hard into her. She gasps and releases a surprised wail as I fill her instantly. She wasn't expecting it, but the moment I am inside of her, I feel her wetness begin to release and slide down my dick. I hold her thighs and thrust violently inside of her. Sensing my little game, she starts to push against my shoulders hard, trying to dislodge herself.

"Stop!" she barks, pushing hard against me and it's difficult to keep her in place because she is so strong. I thrust hard again.

"Why?" I growl grinding my hips into her. She gasps again and stifles a groan.

"Because I said so!" she snaps. "You didn't ask, now stop!" She digs her nails into my shoulders as a defensive distraction.

"Damn it!" I curse and thrust into her again. "It's mine! I can have it when I want it!" Her eyes go large and I swear she gets wetter at that statement.

"Get... _off_ of me!" she commands, still pushing against me, but her walls are starting to quiver.

"No!" I pin her arms against the wall on either side of her head and continue to thrust into her.

"Ah!" she cries out loudly and closes her eyes. I move lightening fast releasing her arms and removing her helmet, then mine. She grabs my biceps and squeezes hard. I go to kiss her and she sinks her teeth into my bottom lip, actually breaking the skin inside.

"Ow!" I cry and thrust violently into her again, forcing her to let go. She holds her head back and her fingers curl into my arm. I lick the sweat from her neck, jaw, and breast as I continue to pound into her. She is panting in pleasure, but these claws in my arms tell me that she still refuses to give in. I thrust into her over and over again and she finally moves her legs to my hips.

She begins that familiar ride that I have grown accustomed to, matching my strokes and eventually taking over as I still my hips, thrusting only as she drops down on my erection. I'm not coming yet. I have built myself up into needing the kind of release that would set this building ablaze—so I will be fucking you until her eyes pops out of your head, Ms. Steele... _hard!_

She is the only woman who has _ever _fucked me like this, and I can't get enough of it. Her legs are wrapped around me and her nails are digging into my arms as she grinds hard against my hips, her beautiful wet pussy matching Greystone's short thrusts blow for blow. Her head is back and she is actually grunting with each bounce on my dick. There is no control in her movements and her core is actually getting warmer as the friction causes more heat to form between us. This is absolutely animal and I feel primal as I grasp her hips and ass and caress them roughly, listening to the wet, sloshing sounds our combined sexes make as we fuck.

Besides the grunting, neither of us says a word. The heat in her core and violent tightening signals her pending release and soon, she is crying out and stiffening against me—the same animal sounds she was making during her ride. I step back from the wall, grab her ass with one hand and her hair with the other. Pulling back violently on her hair, I thrust hard and wild into her, pulling her relentlessly into my body and down onto my dick, chasing my own release and sending her into another orgasm. When she grips me this time I detonate inside her, shooting off that explosive firecracker release that I was expecting and growling like an angry bear and my seed assaults her insides. She's panting and shivering against me, sweat pouring from her body, all sexy and savage in her orgasmic haze. I assault her lips with a brutal kiss and she moans into my mouth. I wiggle a bit, my length still inside her, both of us enjoying the aftershocks of our jungle-fuck.

I put my forehead against her and calm my breathing. I feel the wetness of her fingertips against my arms. I don't know if it's sweat or more battle scars. When we both appear to have caught our breath, I open my eyes.

"Ready?" I ask. She nods. We both protest as I slide my softening member out of her and set her on the floor. She steadies herself then straightens her clothes still breathing a bit heavily. She goes over to the towel rack and grabs a towel to dry her sweat while I take healthy swallows of water. Neither of us says anything to the other while we leave the fitness center and go back to the penthouse to prepare for the rest of the day.

* * *

_**STEELE**_

What the fuck was that!? I'm all a-flutter as I allow the hot water to stream over my body, thinking about the wild, hot sex Christian and I just had in the fitness room. Anybody could have walked in and seen us! Maybe somebody did, I don't even know! I washed blood from under my nails, so I know that I scratched him again, but he pissed me off with that wrestling shit! He knows I can't match a man in strength that way. I never even trained for that, not even just for fitness! My whole plan in a fight has been to never hit the floor, and if you do, get up as quickly as possible. The whole idea of wrestling and to get to the floor! That's the opposite of everything I learned.

Then again, he knew that. Asshole.

I have other things to think of today beside my Neanderthal boyfriend.

The caterer's need access to the party space by noon. The cake will be delivered at five. The decorators will be there starting at two. The bridal party will meet here at six to decompress the bride and then we have the spa at our disposal for the evening thanks to the powerful man in the penthouse suite, Christian Grey. At first, he suggested that we take a spa day at Miana's which actually would have been a good idea, but we would have had to come back here to get dressed anyway, so we may as well have had the spa-day here. The dresses have already been delivered. The DJ will be here at seven to set up and get started for the party started at eight. Judge Stervoll from Mandy's job will be officiating the wedding slated to start promptly at nine so that the good judge will still have time to get home and spend New Years Eve with her husband. The flowers have been delivered and as long as nobody fucks up, everything should go as planned.

Christian, Daddy, Carrick, Elliot, Ethan, and Brian—daddy's best man and the guy who got Christian's background information for me—will be at the Fairmont getting ready and they will be back here at eight to greet guests. Mia will be my "eyes on the decorator" to make sure they don't try to sneak in any of that tacky crap that we told them we didn't want, and Grace and Gail will keep an eye on the caterers for me before and after they both join us for the spa-day. I'm so busy running through my day that I forget that I am in the shower until I start to prune up. I turn off the water and dry my hair, throw on some yoga pants, an oversized sweatshirt and some sneakers and go down to the Club to see how things are progressing.

The caterers have already started preparing the dishes that take the longest and someone from the decorator's is taking some last minute measurements. Things have already started moving along. It's really happening. My daddy is getting married.

* * *

So far the day has moved along fairly seamlessly. Mandy is as nervous as any bride would be, but we were able to get her into the spa, massaged, and relaxed before too long. She wanted a simple ceremony and a simple dress—one that was flirty but wouldn't "enhance" her tiny baby bump, so Kiko strayed from his couture norm for us and made her a simple flowy strapless dress with a sequined waist and sweetheart neckline—short in the front and long in the back. It's good for a simple wedding and a New Years Eve party thereafter. Her maid of honor is wearing a simple silver flowy A-line empire dress, also strapless. While most of us are wearing our hair in up-dos, Mandy's hair is cascading down her back in large, beautiful spiral curls and is decked with simple flowers. She's wearing a pair of silver peep-toe high-heeled strappy sandals to complete the ensemble.

She is right in the middle of getting her makeup done while I, her maid of honor, and two of her friends are drinking Mimosas when a pretty girl comes breezing into the spa. She is almost Mandy's twin and it's clear to see that this is her sister, Lexia. Showtime...

"Mandy!" Lexia says, commanding the room upon her entrance. She breezes in and kisses Amanda on the cheek, interrupting the work of the makeup artist. She is wearing a Peter Pilotto original mirage short-sleeved/long-sleeved dress with a high neck and geometry cutouts across the chest and shoulders. The dress has blue, white, black, and gray patterns over the front and back with black side panels and sleeves. It is knee-length with modest splits above both knees. My knowledge of Peter Pilotto says that this dress ran her about $1,500—maybe more since it is part of the 2012 autumn/winter collection and most likely just came off the runway. Part of me wants to ask her how I can be like the cool kids and get that dress! The other part of me wants to ask her why she would come to a wedding trying to outdress the bride. I put both of those bitches on that back burner as Mandy seems unfazed by it, which is most important tonight.

"Mom is so miffed with you," Lexia says, still blocking the make-up artist's progress. "She's never going to forgive you for this one."

"Well, I gave Mom the opportunity to come, but she didn't want to travel on such short notice. What was I supposed to do? Now step aside, you're blocking my makeup," Mandy scolds.

"Blocking your make-up?" Lexia looks around and eyes the woman with the makeup smock as if this were her first time seeing her. "Oh!" she says, matter-of-factly, taking a seat nearby and still talking to Mandy. "How could you have a wedding without your mother? You know she's been waiting _forever_ for this day!" She stresses the word "forever" as if Mandy is the last single woman on earth. _You're being too sensitive, Steele. If Mandy's okay, why are you acting like this is affecting you personally? _

Sure enough, Mandy waves her off and says, "I was willing to send her a ticket. She didn't want to come. You know how Mom is when she gets a bug up her butt," Mandy responds. Lexia sighs dramatically then looks over at Sheila.

"Sheila," Lexia says, her voice short and clipped.

"Lexia," Sheila replies, just as curtly. Whoa! It appears that Mandy's best friend and her sister have some unpleasant history. I cross my legs and fold my arms as the floor show appears to unfold.

"Nice dress," Lexia says, and it is clearly a shot at Sheila's MOA dress.

"Thanks," Sheila replies. "Ana and Mandy picked it out."

"Ana?" Lexia sneers. "Who's Ana?" Oh, good God.

"That would be me," I say, kindly. When she turns around, I wave. She eyes me speculatively then turns back without a word.

"Lexi, you're being a bitch," Mandy says, impassively and gestures for me to come over to her. Ouch! I stifle my laugh as I pass a gape-mouthed Lexia and go to Mandy's side just as her makeup is completed. She takes my arm and smiles. "I know you haven't all gotten a chance to properly meet her, but this is Ana..."

"Your wedding planner?" Lexia spits before Mandy has a chance to finish. Sheila sighs and shakes her head.

"You could say that," Mandy says, and as I have learned, Mandy has no malice towards anyone—even people who are clearly being malicious towards her. "Ana and her boyfriend are hosting my wedding tonight. Ana is Ray's daughter." Those who didn't know who I was gasped at the introduction and came over shaking my hand and introducing themselves.

"You're marrying a man with an adult daughter?" Lexia says as the greetings die down, still not bothering to greet me.

"Yes, I am, Lexi," Mandy shoots, her ire getting heavier. "Not all of us can marry teenagers. By the way, how _is_ Adam?" I can only assume that Adam is Lexia's husband. This is the only snide remark Mandy has made all night. I'm beginning to have flashbacks of the Daisy Decorator situation.

"Well! That was unnecessary! I was just shocked that you are going to have stepdaughter so close to your own age!" she shoots. That's it. I look over at Mandy begging for her permission and merciful heavens, she nods. I turn and glare at her sister.

"Lexia," I begin, my voice firm, "you have one more time to say something to Amanda on her wedding day that _I_ feel is inappropriate and I will put you out!" The room falls deathly quiet as Lexia gasps at me.

"You can't kick me out of my sister's wedding!" she exclaims.

"Oh, yes I can! Her and my _father's _wedding is being held at _my _place of residence, so I can put you out any time I please if you can't behave yourself!" She must have missed the part where Mandy told her that I was hosting her wedding. The surprise only registers for a moment before Lexia retorts, "You and what army?"

I think the entire room, sighed in dismay. I just shake my head. I open the door and gesture to Hamilton, one of the lady guards that Christian hired for tonight's festivities.

"Ms. Hamilton, this is Lexia. I'm sure that you can tell from the resemblance that this is Miss Herring's sister. I'm going to add to your duties tonight and I apologize in advance. Lexia is in need of additional _attention_ tonight," I say, pinpointing the exact reason for her behavior. "So I'm going to need you to keep an eye on her. If she causes any problems or does anything inappropriate, put. Her. Out." I stress the "t" on the last word while looking Lexia in her eye. I'm not going to argue or fight with this woman. Family or not, she won't ruin this night. Her eyes narrow at me.

"Yes Ma'am," Hamilton says in a strong voice that lets everyone in the room know that it won't do to cross her.

"Thank you, now would you please escort her to the party?" I add. That's Lexia's cue to leave or be removed. Hamilton comes into the room and stands near enough to Lexia so that she knows it is time for her to leave. Hamilton is not as tall as the guards Christian normally hires, but she stands at a commanding enough 5'11" and you really wouldn't want to test her. The entire room is quiet as we all await Lexia's decision. She looks to Mandy for assistance or intervention and, seeing that she won't get any, leaves the spa with Hamilton following close behind.

When she leaves the room and the doors close behind her, the room erupts in applause and cheers. I'm shocked by the reaction, but Amanda joins in the excitement.

"She is such a bitch!" Mandy's friend, Roberta chimes in.

"Oh my God, I know, right?" Mandy laughs. "She's my sister, but good grief!"

"Way to go, Ana!" Sheila exclaims. "I don't think she knows what to do with herself right now! She's always been a bully." Oh good God, really?

"You're kidding!" I say incredulously.

"Oh, yes," Mandy's coworker Thelma says. "She loves that 'you and what army' line." Oh, if she only knew how much I hate that line. I have instant flashbacks of the first time I kicked She-Thing out of Christian's apartment.

"Well, we're not having any of that tonight, because in less than an hour, I'm going to have a new stepmom..." I turn to face Mandy, "... and _nobody_ fucks with my stepmom." Mandy smiles while fighting back fresh tears and embraces me warmly.

* * *

When I go out to check the party and the arrival of guests, I see that things are going along very well. I am happy to see that most of the guests have arrived and are enjoying a light cocktail hour in the wine cave before the wedding begins. Judge Stervoll is here and we are only waiting for one or two of Mandy's invited guests. While the photographer is taking candid shots, Lexia has made her way straight to the group of handsomely dressed gentlemen. I guess one of them failed to tell her that Daddy is actually the groom. Between Christian and Daddy, she is laughing like she is hearing the funniest things that she has ever heard in her life. Standing with them is Brian—my own private eye and Daddy's best man—and Gary and Phil, who have fallen back into the comfortable conversation with "Chris" that they used to have in F&L, thank God. Sadly, Maxie still looks like the odd man—or woman, I should say—out while she wanders the room, occasionally talking to Val and Grace and tasting the finger foods. I have to play hostess so I won't be able to commit too much one-on-one time to her, but I'll make sure that she doesn't feel left out. That's the last thing that I want. I'm still examining the remaining guests in the room when I hear a throat clearing behind me.

"Um, Ms. Steele? Ana?" I turn around to see Barney is standing there. Damn—he cleans up well! I smile widely at him.

"Barney," I say, warmly while I take his hand. "Thank you for coming. I'm so glad you could make it. Have you had a drink yet?"

"No. I'm not much of a drinker, but the hors d'oeuvres are delicious. Did you plan this yourself?"

"I did. It wasn't easy, especially when people didn't want to do what I asked, but as you can see, it worked out okay." I try to keep to the small talk, but I am well aware of what this man has done for me. I know that it was because he works for Christian that he enhanced the video of my kidnapping, thereby enabling Christian and the police to identify David and Harris which ultimately lead to my rescue. I could be a captive wife somewhere right now if it weren't for him. However, Christian informed me that he had already begun the separation of the suspects on that video of the attack before even being given instructions; how he recognized me first as the victim and then spent several hours—most of his own time—scanning pictures from the Green Valley yearbook and entering information to be able to identify the people who attacked me. My heart swells at the thought and before I know it, I embrace him warmly. He is very stiff and only slightly returns my hug.

"Thank you, Barney. Thank you for everything that you've done," I say in his ear. When I pull back from him, he is extremely nervous and shy.

"Um... You're welcome... Ana," he responds. "It was really nothing."

"How could you say that?" I gasp. "You helped to figure out who had kidnapped me and then you identified those assholes on that video." I gesture for Chuck to come to me and he reaches into his jacket and pulls out an envelope that he had been holding for me. "I don't know what I can ever do to thank you for what you've done for me without even knowing me, but I am so, so happy that you could be here to celebrate with us and I hope you accept this small token of my appreciation." Barney opens the envelope that I hand him and gasps loudly.

"Alicia Keys!" He almost sounds like he's fangirling. "How did you know?"

"A little birdie told me," I respond with a smile. "There are backstage passes in there, too, so you take someone with you that deserves some fun, okay?" The shyness leaves his face and he smiles a full-on grin.

"Thank you, Ana! Thank you so much!" He's grasping those tickets like they are gold. At that moment, a nice-looking ginger comes up behind him. "Oh, Ashley, this is Ana, my boss's girlfriend. Ana, this is Ashley, my girlfriend."

"I know who you are!" she gasps. "AnaChris, right?" Oh, good Lord, not tonight... not at Daddy's wedding.

"Yeah," I answer cautiously.

"Oh, don't worry about me," she says, coolly waving off the phrase. "I'm not some psycho-stalker person, I just keep up with the gossip, that's all." Well, that's a relief. I still think I'm going to have security keep an eye on her, though.

"Well, I want you two to have a good time. I have to go and get this shindig on the road." I say, squeezing both of their hands. They smile fondly at me and I head off towards the men.

I can almost feel the crackle in the air as I walk towards this group. Brian is one of Daddy's closest friends since they were in the service together, but he has had a thing for me for about the last four years. Christian is a great judge of character and I can already see that he has observed Brian's feelings for me. It hasn't gotten past me that Brian has been staring at me every since I came into the wine cave, and I am certain that it hasn't gotten past Christian even though he appears to be fighting off Lexia's need to have the attention of every man in the room. In addition to that, Daddy _and_ Christian are getting tired of Lexia who hasn't figured out that she picked the _wrongest_two people in the room to attempt to monopolize their attention. Time to rescue my men.

I walk over to Daddy and kiss him on the cheek. "You ready, Daddy?" I say, looking adoringly into his eyes.

"Oh, yes, quite ready," Daddy says, straightening his silver tie and then the jacket of his black Paul Stuart suit.

"Daddy!?" Lexia gasps. "_This _is your father?" I glare at her, then turn to Daddy.

"You didn't introduce yourself, Daddy?" I say, surprised.

"Well, it's kind of hard. She never stopped talking," he replied. Several people in the area nearly spit food and spirits while trying to suppress their laughter. I look over at Lexia and shake my head. She is definitely going to be a problem tonight.

"Well, allow me," I said, stepping into the middle of the group of men. "This, as you have discovered, is my father Raymond Steele. The handsome gentleman to his left is his best man, Brian Cholometes." I can feel Christian tensing up just a few feet away. I thought he was going to body-check Barney when I hugged him, and now I've called Brian a _handsome gentleman_. I skip over Christian in the introductions; hopefully he will see that I am saving him for last. "This dusty-blond cutie is Allen Forsythe, my best friend and attorney, and that lovely bronze god behind him is his boyfriend, James Flemings. These two handsome devils are Philip Guest and Garrett Pope—also two of my closest friends." I walk over to Christian. "And this copper-haired hottie..." I keep my eyes locked on his and now he sees my game. His eyes darken and a smirk plays with the corner of his lips, "... is Christian Trevelyan Grey, my boyfriend."

Another gasp escapes Lexia's mouth. I don't think she knows what to say. After gazing at Christian for quite some time, I look up and down the row of handsome suit-clad gentlemen. There's nothing like a well-dressed man, and I'm surrounded by them right now. "Did I forget anyone?" Seeing that I didn't, I say, "Everyone, this is Amanda's sister, Lexia... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your last name."

"Herring," she says, like it should have been obvious. Oh, Bitch, you don't want to start with me.

"Oh, I apologize," I say, mocking sincerity. "I thought I heard Mandy say that your husband's name was Adam, so I assumed that you no longer shared the same last name," I shoot back at her. She glares at me.

"I go by my maiden name." She seems to be getting angry. I shrug.

"Well, hopefully you will overlook my _faux pas _since we weren't actually properly introduced." I turn back to Christian while I say, "This is Lexia Herring, everyone." I say it as an afterthought, waving my hand at her and focusing on Christian. "Barney has the cutest girlfriend," I say to Christian, conspicuously ignoring Lexia.

"Yes, I know," he says softly, "I saw you hug him earlier." His voice has the slightest bit of ice in it.

"It was just to thank him for all that he has done," I defend.

"It's his job. He was supposed to do it," Christian says matter-of-factly.

"Well, it was still a kind thing to do and he didn't even know me. That's why I invited him."

"He knew _me._" He's not going to let this go. I slap his arm.

"Quit being a spoilsport!" I chastise him. "You know as well as I do that man went above and beyond the call of duty for me—_twice_ in fact—so cut it out." I stare at him for a moment and his lip twitches before he mockingly mutters, "Yes, Mistress."

My eyes narrow as I glare at him and he actually shrinks, but only infinitesimally so that I could barely see it. He knows that I am going to make him pay for that.

"Get your ass over here so that I can introduce you to Brian. I've seen the glares all night, so let's get this over and done." I take his hand and drag a reluctant Christian over to my admirer and on-call private eye. "I don't know if you've met yet, but this is Brian. He's the one who gave me information about you when you were snooping around in my past. Brian, of course you know this is Christian."

"Christian," Brian extends his hand to Christian and I know that he wants to say "Call me Grey."

"Brian," Christian says with no warmth in his voice, taking Brian's proffered hand. They glare at each other and don't release hands. I immediately know that they are testing grips. I roll my eyes.

"Boys..." I warn. They seem to come back to themselves and release hands. I turn around and notice that Lexie has moved on to the hors d'oeuvres, but Daddy is watching this exchange slightly bemused.

"So you're the one who discovered that I was looking into Anastasia's past—not an easy thing to do with the team that I have employed." Christian says a little too casually.

"It wasn't so difficult," Brian retorted. "When you frightened her, she called on me. All I had to do was follow the breadcrumbs that _your team_ left all over the place." Christian smirks a bit at Brian's shot.

"Well, I'll have to thank them for those breadcrumbs as that little revelation led her right to me. In fact, I think the day that she discovered that I was the one that was looking was the day that we shared our first kiss." Christian smiles that full, 32-teeth, _Checkmate_ smile. Daddy looks from Christian to Brian and I can't believe that he is just now putting this together.

"Does someone want to tell me what's going on here?" Daddy asks. I won't out his best man on his wedding day and I can only hope that Christian won't either.

"Nothing that I know of," Christian said. "It just appeared to me that he was questioning the work of my team and I had to defend them. They couldn't have done too badly considering that not only did I get the information that I wanted but—in the end—I even got the girl." Christian slid his arm around my waist and pulled me very close to him, kissing my hair. I just shake my head and roll my eyes. The Neanderthal strikes again.

Okay, enough twisting the knife, Grey.

"Alright, let's start getting this show on the road. We are nearing 9:00 and I know that Amanda is only too anxious to see her love, so let's get situated." I say. This statement immediately softens Daddy's mood, eliciting a huge smile from him. It's time to move the guests from the wine cave into the club and get the festivities started.

* * *

_**A/N: See? No "cliffy" this time. So, the wedding is next and I hope you will like it. What do you think is Lexia's major malfunction? Is she jealous or just a regular bitch? Will she do something to try to ruin her sister's wedding or will she behave herself? In Book I, I made a a brief reference to Brian Cholometes (pronounced Coh - la - meh - teez) and his feelings for Ana. He's clearly not taking down to Christian. What do you think - if anything - is going to come from that exchange? **_

_**Pictures of places, cars, fashion, etc can be found at pinterest ladeeceo/mending-dr-steele/**_

_**Shoot me over an email at divinebronzegoddess at gmail . com (no spaces of course and use the "at" sign) to join my mailing list and stay up to date on blogs, publishing of my stories, etc.**_

_**Feel free to review—it is greatly appreciated.**_


	13. Happy New Year

_**Those of you who follow Paging Dr. Steele saw my update yesterday that I am leaving Fanfiction soon. I will be posting my stories in another forum mainly**__** because I am trying to publish the rewrites and you can only leave the story up for so long anyway once you decide to take that route. However, I also mentioned that I couldn't take the amount of pettiness on Fanfiction. I explained how good authors are being terrorized into no longer wanting to write and how good stories are all but disappearing because someone thinks the mention of the words "penis" is too explicit, while stories about incest are allowed to remain indefinitely. I know that my story is quite explicit, but someone came spouting the fanfiction guidelines and said that my story was pornographic, so I know that it's only a matter of time before Fanfiction comes sniffing around my stories. I also mentioned how I was taking personal attacks by being called **__**the N-word at least 10 times on one of my PDS reviews. Even after all of that, I still got a guest review that said "Grow a backbone and get over it..."**_

_**...**_

_**...**_

_**... and you wonder why I'm leaving Fanfiction? **_

_**You just proved my point! That's the exact petty shit that I'm talking about! Was that even necessary? I don't give a fuck if you don't like me or my story, but why must you be so damn petty? **_

_**So - after the outpouring of support that I have gotten from literally hundreds... yes, HUNDREDS of people... I realize that fanfiction has served its purpose for me and that I really don't need to sit here and take this shit anymore. My mailing list has EXPLODED and I will actually have to HIRE SOMEONE to help me organize it so that I won't miss anyone. So for all of you petty fuckers who want to keep talking shit, the laugh is on you, because I'm taking my followers and my exploding mailing list and dipping the fuck out. Your pettiness only brought all of my supporters to the surface, so thanks! ;-) You haven't discouraged me from writing. I'm just moving my work to a more desirable location. **_

_**So here's the deal. I am moving my stories as we speak. Mending Dr. Steele has already been moved. I will update here AND at the new location until I get Paging Dr. Steele moved. We all know that PDS is long as hell so it's going to take forever to move that beast. I will continue to update Mending in this forum until I leave it for good. I am scouting out two additional forums to hopefully gain readers because, let's face it, I'm hoping that you will all support me when I publish my book, so the more the merrier. However, my stories already have a home in a primary location, so they will be moving there in the coming weeks. I will not share that information in an open forum or even in a PM on Fanfiction, so if you want the information, you have to get on my mailing list. **__**If you are already on my mailing list, you know where my stories are going. If you want to know where my stories are going, you better get on my mailing list, because if one of my stories gets removed from Fanfiction, they are all gone; and if I just get too damn tired of dealing with the kiddie bullshit, then I'm gone anyway. I have amassed a fairly large following on Fanfiction and I really hope that you all continue to follow my stories when I move them, but if you don't, that's fine, too. I really hate to see you go. If I am still here for the next posting, I will do review shout-outs in the next chapter.**_

_**I have hundreds of emails to respond to (I've already added about 125 of you to the mailing list) so if I haven't responded, I promise that I am working on it. If you are not sure if I received your email, feel free to send another one. I would rather receive two emails than no email. Feel free to send questions as well. This chapter will be updated here as well as on the new location. If you are already on the mailing list and have the new location, feel free to comment and review over there instead of here! **_

_**All previous disclaimers apply here. **_

**Chapter 13—Happy New Year!**

_**GREY**_

Butterfly has really done an excellent job coordinating this wedding/party. The guests have all made their way across the lobby and over to the Cielo Club which has been decorated in white and silver for the wedding with just enough glitz for the New Years Eve party. There are seven tables set up including the bride and groom's table and each table holds four to six people. The party has 35 guests with no hope of what Butterfly calls "do-drops" as you don't get in if you are not on the guest list.

The walls of the club are draped in sheer white fabric that immediately softens the look of the room. The ambient lighting gives the feel of a full moon on a clear night. Dramatic curtains made of hundreds of silver chains separate the area where the ceremony will take place and a single chandelier hangs above illuminates the area almost like a spotlight. Iridescent crystal beads that compliment the deliberately mismatched crystal chandeliers are hung plentifully around the room.

The tables are draped in alternating silver or white linens and the chairs have white covers with silver sashes. The centerpieces are three-tiered silver serving trays or four-tier glass cake stands with various mismatched elegant silver and white ornaments and one or two other items thrown in like little painted birds or fruit.

Various buffet tables are set with jingle bell candle settings and intricate color-coordinated hors d'oeuvres and desserts in white and silver with various additions of chocolate. Silver beads are spread on various areas of the table and they almost look edible. I am assured by one of the catering staff that they are not.

The cake table has three or four large textured white bottles on each end that act as vases, containing small sprigs, leaves, and branches painted silver. Hmmm... branches. Butterfly told me about the super-nova that occurred when the decorator kept insisting on branches while she and Amanda feverishly told her that this idea was unacceptable. I can only assume that they must have compromised on these small ones as they do compliment the room quite nicely.

There are two cakes on the cake table flanking a pyramid of small white take-home boxes with festive silver decorations. One of the cakes is a small plain white cake with four alternating small and larger tiers while the second cake is a bit larger—brown and white, three-tiered, intricately decorated with flowers and a cake topper that is a miniature ice bucket full of ice and a bottle of champagne. The second tier has various New Years Eve fondue decorations on it while the bottom tier sports the words "Ride Together Forever." This cake has "Ray" written all over it, much like the cases of Budweiser behind the bar.

It appears that under Butterfly's instruction, nothing has been forgotten—and she did all of this while dealing with the Green Valley issues and Melanie's revelation, her own breakdown and her impetuous friends, and planning Maxine's wedding as well. God, I can't wait to marry her!

The paparazzi has not caught on that there is a wedding at Escala this evening, so we will hopefully be able to get everyone in, partied up, and out before there is any discovery. Amanda and Ray have agreed to allow us to make a statement once they are off on their honeymoon. Usually if you give them what they want, they will leave you alone. Also, once the word gets out that there was a wedding at Escala—and the word _will_ get out—we will definitely have to reveal who was wed or Ana and I will never get any peace.

"Okay, everyone, please take your seats. We are about to get started," Butterfly announces. I take a seat at the closest table to the front, where Butterfly has placed us along with Elliot, Valerie, Allen and James. Once everyone has taken their seats, the silver chain curtains are opened and draped back by two staff members and Ray and Brian stand in front with the judge. Butterfly takes her seat next to me just as the DJ starts to play _Percy Sledge, When A Man Loves A Woman_ and Amanda's maid of honor, Sheila, makes her way to the front. As Amanda moves towards Ray, I watch his expression. It can only be described as pure joy. She is floating elegantly towards him delicately holding a bouquet of white peonies with painted white-gray leaves in front of her. The photographer discreetly captures pictures of her simple, elegant dress just before she makes her way to the front.

Butterfly grasps my hand as they gaze at one another while the song continues to play. I squeeze her hand as I can only imagine the many emotions that must be going through her at this point. It was all just a plan before this moment and now, her father is actually getting married. Tears flow down her face as she watches Amanda and Ray exchange traditional vows. I look over at Lexia who looks like she's smelling something bad and then over at Brian who was gazing wistfully at Butterfly until he caught my glare. I need this guy out of here soon before I forget that this is supposed to be a joyous occasion.

I turn back to the ceremony just in time to see the judge pronounce them man and wife. Ray takes Amanda's face in his hands and gives her the most reverential kiss that I have ever witnessed. I thought that their wedding was a bit nontraditional, but seeing this kiss let's me know that he truly loves this woman. As the judge announces Mr. and Mrs. Raymond Steele, the DJ begins to play Smokey Robinson, _Ooo Baby Baby_. I thought that was an odd song since it's so sad and talks about breaking up, but Butterfly told me that they chose this song because it is the song that they danced to on their first date. Sheila and Brian step back as Amanda and Ray immediately lead the first dance. She is gazing into his eyes and now her tears fall as she and Ray glide across the floor. The DJ announces for us to join in after the first verse is played. I take Butterfly's hand and lead her to the dance floor.

"Are you okay, Baby?" I ask as she tries to wipe away her tears. She nods silently, but the tears keep falling. "Are those happy tears or sad tears?" Her body starts to shake and I know that she can't answer. I assume that they are a combination of both and I pull her close to my body and sway with her, both to comfort her and to hide her from prying eyes and let her get it out. I spread my hands protectively over her back and press her against me, resting my head on hers. I'm relieved when the DJ immediately plays _If This World Were Mine_. It gives Butterfly a few more moments to compose herself. Somewhere in the middle of the song, she finally stops crying. I raise her head to mine and use my handkerchief to dry her tears.

"Better?" I ask softly. She nods.

"Better," she responds weakly.

"It really was a beautiful ceremony, Butterfly. You really did a good job pulling everything together," I commend her.

"I had a lot of help," she says with a weak smile, pressing her cheek into my chest.

"They really do love each other."

"I know." She lets out one of those shuddering breaths and I gently rub her back.

"He's moving to Kent. That's so much closer than Montesano," I say, trying to find something that will comfort her right now. She looks up at me.

"You're such a wonderful man, Christian," she says softly. I'm taken aback a bit by her compliment.

"Thank you," I say bemused. "You make me better."

"No, I think it was always there... You just may not have known it yet," she responds. I gently stroke her cheek.

"Well, you are a remarkable woman," I say and she snickers a bit.

"I'm not so special," she replies.

"How can you say that? You're everything special! You bring out the best in just about everyone you meet. You are quite extraordinary, Ms. Steele and don't you forget it." It's important to me that she knows that I'm not just saying that. She looks at me with those bottomless, guileless, ocean-blue eyes.

"God, I love you so much," she says just above a whisper. Her voice does something to me that makes me want to make love to her right here in the middle of the dance floor. I close my eyes and put my forehead on hers.

"Ana..." I breathe her name and I feel her melt against me as I hear the melody of a third song play, but I am barely coherent. I am intoxicated in Butterfly—in her love and her essence. I need to make her my wife and I need to do it soon. I know that it can't be before February as the moment she gets a chance to take a breath, she will be knee-deep in planning Maxine and Philip's wedding which is a much larger event than this one. I won't put that pressure on her, but I can't wait much longer and I need to get this ball rolling as soon as I can.

"I need to go and clean myself up, okay?" she says, pulling herself away from me and introducing the unwanted space between us.

"Okay, Butterfly," I touch her cheek and kiss her lips softly. "I love you, too, Baby." She smiles sweetly and walks to the door, not letting my hand go until the last moment. She turns around and blows a kiss to me while mouthing "right back." I must be smiling like an idiot and Elliot does not let the opportunity pass to rib me mercilessly.

"Bro, give it a break. Your cheeks are going to crack," he ribs. I look at my brother who has come up behind me.

"She's the one, Man," I tell him as I watch the door she just exited.

"You're saying that like I don't already know it," Elliot says, taking a swallow of his gin and tonic. I put my hand in my pocket.

"No, Elliot. She's the one. The _one_ the one," I say. His blue eyes are sharp now.

"You mean the vows, Bro?" he asks and I nod. "Are you sure you're not just caught up in all of this wedding shit?" I shake my head.

"I've been feeling this way for a while... almost since the day that I met her." I walk over to the bar. "Shot of bourbon," I tell the bartender.

"Well, what are you waiting for, then?" he says. I sigh.

"We have so much going on, Elliot. There's a lot that we have to settle before we can take that step."

"Like what?" he asks incredulously.

"Well, I don't know if you've noticed over the last 30 years, Big Brother, but I've got this little issue with my emotions. I've been seeing a therapist about it..."

"You mean Flynn? If that motherfucker hasn't helped you after all this time..."

"No, I fired Flynn. We're seeing someone else... together."

"Well, it's about damn time!" Elliot takes another swallow of his drink. "Man, he helped you for a little while with the real heavy shit, but after a while, nothing was happening. Progress just seemed to stop—and unlike the rest of the family, I knew about the women." I glare at him. How could he have possibly known about the women!? "Keep your shirt on, Man. I didn't know about the heavy stuff until you confessed at the house, but I never pegged you for a cross-dresser and I saw all of those clothes in your guest room. I never understood why your women didn't sleep in the same room with you, but now it all makes sense."

"Fuck, why didn't you ever say anything?" I sneer.

"What was I supposed to say? 'Yo, Christian, what's up with you and these strange relationships?' And who was I to say anything? I was engaged to Dragon Lady!" I involuntarily laugh at his statement.

"This is true."

"So, Man. You're always going to have some kind of emotional issue. It's part of life. Why are you really waiting?" Ugh! Elliot has always known me better than anyone.

"We've got this thing with Green Valley that we need to put to rest. Ana is more emotionally fragile than I am right now. Then everybody is getting engaged and married around us. I don't want her to think I am just jumping on the bandwagon."

"_That's_ the real reason," he points at me. "You're putting your and her life on hold because you don't want her to think that you're trying to 'keep up with the Joneses.'" Ouch! That smarts.

"That's only part of it," I say honestly. "She really, really does have a lot on her plate right now, Elliot—a whole lot. I don't want our engagement to be associated with this time in her life."

"Have you ever thought that might be just what she needs—to be able to get on with her life and have something to look forward to, the light at the end of the tunnel so to speak?" No, I hadn't even considered that.

"Elliot, I need to be very careful. I need to be sure that I'm not doing this selfishly and then justifying it with my perception of Ana's needs. Do you get what I'm saying?" Elliot gazes at me.

"If you know that, then you're definitely ready. The only way to know if Ana is ready is to ask her, and it's got to be right."

"I know. That's why I don't want to ask her in the midst of all of these weddings and engagements, and like I said—she is really, really fragile right now. I'm not just saying that. She is really fragile." I am having immediate flashbacks of Butterfly weeping on the dance floor.

"Okay, so we know that you can't ask her tomorrow, but we do know that it's going to have to be soon. So... do you need some help?" Do I need help with women? No! Of course the fuck I don't! Do I?

"What's to know? Pick the right moment, pick a ring, and ask her to marry me, right?"

"Oh, yeah, you'll need help. Knowing Ana, you'll need a lot of it."

Elliot and I sit at the bar talking until it's nearly time for the late reception dinner. Ana is just walking back in and it seems like she had been gone forever.

"Baby, what took you so long. I was starting to get worried." I kiss her on the cheek.

"I tried to clean myself up in the bathroom down here, but I needed a little more work. So I went back up to the apartment. I went to wash my face and the whole dress was a casualty." She did a good job. She looks all fresh-faced and you wouldn't even know that she had been weeping earlier in the evening. She has changed her dress and she is now wearing a taupe satin dress with spaghetti straps, a structured bodice and a plunging neckline... _very _plunging... not tacky, but sexy as hell. She's still wearing the Louboutin Dos Noeud Back-Bow d'Orsay black leather peep-toe stilettos that she has been wearing all evening. If that Brian fucker was gawking at her before, he's going to be absolutely spellbound now.

"I am _not _letting you out of my sight," I say, grabbing her hand and pulling her quickly against me.

"Careful, Bro. Don't mount her right here at the bar." I completely forgot that he was standing there. Yeah, we need to join in the festivities.

When I lead Ana back to the center of the party, Ray and Amanda are accepting congratulations from several of the guests. Amanda looks a bit perturbed and her sister is standing nearby—that would explain it.

"Ana! Where do you go?" Amanda nearly runs to Ana when she is in view.

"I'm sorry!" Ana exclaims. "I turned into a weepy, blubbering mess and totally ruined my dress, so I had to go change." She hugs Mandy. "Welcome to the family. You're stuck with us now," she says with a smile.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Amanda returned smile is genuine and heartwarming.

"Hmm... had I known there would be wardrobe changes, I would have brought another outfit." The voice is coming from Lexia, Amanda's attention-hungry, overdressed, crabby-ass sister. Butterfly turns on her in an instant. In a very controlled voice, she says,

"That would have been very impressive considering that the dress that you're wearing probably cost more than the bride's, the maid of honor's, and the daughter of the groom's dresses combined. Did no one ever tell you that it's bad form to try to show up the bride at her own wedding?" Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Shut up Little Sister Person, it will only get worse from here.

"I was only wearing what I had in my closet!" she spits, trying to defend herself. Butterfly scoffs at her, cackling a couple of times.

"Lexia, I don't know who you think you're talking to, but I know who Peter Pilotto is and I'm sure that you were counting on that to some degree. I know that dress just got off the runway and you didn't _just_ have it in your closet. I know that you paid a pretty penny for the dress and a prettier penny to have it ready by New Years Eve. What I don't know is why. This wasn't a red carpet event. This is a small, intimate affair that is your sister's wedding. What are you trying to prove?" I see Hamilton inching up to the gathering while Butterfly quietly calls Little Sister Person to task. Noticing that she is the center of attention in this tiny part of the gathering—and not in a good way—Little Sister Person shrinks a bit.

"I just wanted to look nice," she says, resigned.

"Oh, that is such bullshit." We are all surprised to see that voice coming from Amanda. "You wanted to steal my moment. You've been trying to steal it from the moment you arrived, and I know it. The only problem is that this isn't your show. These people are _my _people—real people, not those country-club, stuck-up, blue-haired bats that you and Mom hang around. Mom didn't care one bit to come to my wedding because she's got you to give her a play-by-play and you've been making sideways comments the entire night. Simple though it may be, you are not going to ruin my wedding, so shut the hell up or fucking leave!" Whoa! You have upset the bride. You have officially broken wedding rule #1.

"I think you need to leave," I say to Lexia. "You are clearly upsetting Amanda and I won't have it in my home." Hamilton reaches for Lexia's arm.

"No! Look... I'm sorry. I'll behave myself. I promise," Lexia says softly, looking at me. I shake my head.

"Don't tell me, tell her." I point to Amanda. Yes, I'm going to make you grovel to your sister in front of all of these people in your Peter Pilotto original.

"Mandy, I'm sorry," she says softly.

"You're sorry for what?" Amanda asks. She wants her pound of flesh and she deserves it, plus some.

"I'm sorry for making terrible remarks and trying to ruin your wedding," she says.

"And...?" Apparently, wasn't good enough.

"For trying to get the attention on your day," she adds.

"And...?" Keep going, Little Sister Person.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what else to say." She drops her head contritely, but Amanda is unfazed.

"Let me help you." Amanda steps away from Ray to confront her sister. More guests are now looking in our direction to see what's going on. "I'm sorry that I wore a $1500 designer dress to your wedding when you told me it was an intimate affair—I know who Peter Pilotto is, too!" Lexia's eyes get large.

"I'm sorry about the dress," she says, her voice sounding like a mouse.

"I'm sorry I insulted your husband before I even knew him!" Amanda continues. Ray's interest is piqued now.

"Wha...?" he says, no doubt wanting to know what that exchange was all about.

"I'm sorry for insulting Ray," Lexia says, more humiliated than before, but Amanda is not finished yet.

"I'm sorry for disrespecting Ana when she's been nothing but kind, loving, and accepting of my sister. I'm sorry for insulting Sheila's dress even though I knew it was what you wanted. I'm sorry for trying to make you feel bad about Mom when I knew that she wouldn't come anyway. I'm sorry for being a little teacher's-pet-Mommy's-favorite-blabbermouth and going back and telling her everything that happened tonight. Most of all, I'm sorry for being a self-centered, treacherous bitch! I think that about covers it!" I think we are all stunned into silence. Tears are flowing down Lexia's face. We all look from Amanda to Lexia to see what is going to happen next. To our surprise, Lexia nods.

"Yes," she whispers. "I'm sorry for all of those things."

"Good!" Amanda says. She has never once raised her voice, but her tone with her sister is still commanding. "You can stay then, but I swear Lexia, one more thing—one more thing—and I will bounce you and Peter out on your ass, and I _do _mean your ass! Is that clear?"

"Yes... it's very clear," Lexia says, duly chastised, before going back to her seat for dinner. Amanda looks from face to face of the stunned people standing around her.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to act that way," she apologizes.

"Don't you dare apologize!" Butterfly scolds. "This is your party. You make the rules."

"Here, here," I chime in.

"She caused all that trouble in the small amount of time she's been here?" Ray asks, throwing a murderous look over at Lexia who is sitting at the table still looking down.

"Well, most of it. She's been a treacherous bitch since she could speak!" Amanda says. It breaks the ice somewhat and a few of us laugh.

"I can't believe you two came from the same person," Butterfly states.

"You haven't met my mother. _I'm _the black sheep," she says, shaking her head. "I'm not doing this anymore. I'm not trying to mend or build those relationships anymore. I'm 35 years old and they still treat me like shit." A single tear falls from Amanda's eye. Butterfly takes her hand.

"If it doesn't fit, don't force it. We're your family now, okay?" She says softly. Amanda nods and breaks down just a bit. Butterfly takes her in her arms.

"Excuse me," Ray says and walks over to Lexia, who slowly raises her head to look him. "She couldn't tell you, but I can. I want you to leave. You upset my wife on her wedding day and I will not have that. Get your things and go." Lexia gapes at Ray for a moment but he stares her down. Without a word, Lexia rises from her chair and quietly walks out of the club. As Ray makes his way over to his wife, I tell Butterfly, "I'll be right back." She nods at me and I follow Lexia out of the door.

I catch her just after she has retrieved her coat and Hamilton is escorting her from the premises. "Excuse, Ms. Herring or whatever your name is." She turns around and is surprised to see me standing behind her.

"Yes?"

"One word of this—to _anyone_—and I will make your life a miserable fucking hell. Do you understand?" Her eyes are large and she clearly can't believe that I said this to her. "You can nod if you can't form words," I spit. She is still dumbfounded. "Let me try to put this another way. That woman that you just embarrassed at her own wedding is married to the father of the woman that I love—the very center of my universe. So if you embarrass Amanda or Ray, then you cause pain to my girlfriend. If you cause pain to my girlfriend, I will rip out your soul. If you don't believe me, try me... _please_. Is that any clearer for you?" I hiss.

"Y-yes, Mr. Grey. I-I won't say anything," she stammers.

"Good. Have a good night." I watch as Hamilton escorts her from the building and as I turn to go back to the club, I see a petite frame in a black suit duck into the men's room.

It couldn't be...

I know that I shouldn't do this without security present, but I don't want to cause any more of a commotion than I have already seen at Ray and Amanda's wedding. I go into the men's room. The fact that no one is in here proves that my eyes didn't deceive me. If there's a urinal open, men don't often use stalls. I lean against the counter and fold my arms.

"Are you going to stay in there all night?" I ask. A few moments pass and the stall opens. She comes out wearing a Tom Ford men's suit and hat, but her red lipstick is still caked on as usual.

"You're pretty smart and pretty stupid at the same time," I tell her. "Men don't use stalls unless utterly necessary, so you knew you wouldn't be spotted in here—smart. Your ass never could follow directions which must be why you consistently keep putting yourself in this situation. Why are you here?"

"I need help, Christian," she says.

"Yes, you do, but I can't give it to you. So again I ask, why are you here?"

"The kind of help that I need, you can give it to me." She sounds broken, more broken than I have ever heard before.

"I can't—_won't_—give you anything," I tell her. "I don't care what happens to you. I really don't."

"Christian, I love you so much," she pleads. "I know that I went about things—everything—the wrong way. I would do anything to get you back. Anything!"

"You never had me! That's what you don't get. I thought I felt something for you once upon a time. I was wrong! Anything that we ever had, that we ever could have had, was a lie. Why can't you get that through your head?"

"I can't accept that I will never have you again! I won't accept that you never loved me! You did, I know you did! You would do anything for me. Your whole life was to make me happy—to please me—until _she _came along. She poisoned you against me and I won't let her get away with it. If it's the last thing that I do, I swear that I won't let her get away with it!" She is rambling like a maniac. This is truly one sick bitch.

"You are some special kind of crazy, do you know that?" I say calmly. "I've been in therapy my whole life and even though I refused to admit it before now, I always knew that the first part of solving your problems is admitting that you _have_ problems. You can never admit it. You can never admit that _you_ did anything wrong. For that, I feel sorry for you, but only because that means that you will never find redemption. I am so lucky I let you go, got you out of my life. God only knows where I would be if I had continued with you." I turn to leave. I'm talking to the same wall that I've always been and I don't expect it to change.

"Christian, please!" she wails like she's in pain and it causes me to stop and turn around. "I don't have much time left." What the...?

"What do you mean you don't have much time left?" What fresh new hell is she about to thrust upon me this time?

"I've lost everything. I don't have any money left. I've been living with and off of my submissives. I only have a few subs left to contract as most of them have found other... agents. My remaining submissives are dropping like flies. After everything I have done for them, they all leave me when the money runs out!" I laugh at her statement.

"That's the nature of the game, Elena! They are in it for the pain... and the prizes. What good is the pain without the prize?" Now she laughs at me.

"You are her sub and she's not giving you prizes!" she spits at me.

"_She's _the prize." I correct her. "She's more than I have ever dreamed of. If I lost my entire fortune, as long as I had her, I would still be the wealthiest man alive!"

"You're talking like an idiot!" she scoffs. I fold my arms again.

"Those are big words coming from a woman dressed in a man's suit hiding in the men's restroom," I laugh. Her face falls.

"It's the only way that I could possibly hope to see you. Please, Christian. Please forgive me. I didn't know that I loved you so much until I lost you. Now I can't function without you. I don't know what to do. I'm sick and miserable and none of my subs are making me happy anymore. Please, Christian. I will be your sub, your slave, your lover. I will do anything you ask of me, please, Christian. I beg of you, please... please, take me back."

Oh, this woman is truly delusional. Nothing that you say to her gets through to her. No amount of explaining reaches her. She just can't hear you. Well, let's try this...

"No."

She glares at me like she can't believe what I just said to her.

"No?" she screams. "No?" Wow... something finally got through. "How can you possibly not want me? We were amazing together, don't you remember?" I get in her face.

"What I remember is that a few months ago, you tried to ruin everything that I had. Do you remember that?" I hiss. "Do you remember when you tried to ruin my relationship? My family? _Me_? That's what I remember and that's what I'll always remember about you—that, and the fact that you molested me and countless other children and you tried to molest my brother. That is your only legacy in my mind!" I am glaring into her frightened eyes and before I know it, she throws her arms around my neck and presses her lips hard against mine.

What the fuck!?

I pry her arms from my neck and push her hard away from me until she slams against the wall. The shove doesn't even phase her and she lunges for me again. Instinctively, I go into defense mode and slap the taste out of her mouth! She wails and falls over from the force of the hit, looking up at me while holding her face. I shake my head at her and leave her there on the restroom floor.

I walk directly to the front desk and tell the clerk to call the police. He is glaring at me.

"Is there something wrong with the instructions that I just gave you?" I bark at him.

"Um, no sir, but... Why am I calling the police?" I point to the men's room.

"There is a woman in the men's room. She is not a resident. I and my girlfriend have a standing protection order against her and I want to make a police report that she is here."

"Um... okay, sir." He picks up the phone. "Sir, do you know that you're wearing lipstick?"

Lipstick? I touch my lips and sure enough, that bitch has left her blood red lipstick on my lips. I see the clerk looking over my shoulder and I look back to see Elena smirking and cleaning up her smudged lipstick from her lips. Sick bitch.

"Did you see her?" I ask the clerk.

"Yes, Sir, I did."

"Well, call the police, please." I pull my handkerchief out of my pocket to clean my face, but I realize that I am too late. Standing off to the side looking me square in my eye—lipstick and all—is Butterfly. I don't know how long she's been standing there, but I know she had to see Elena leave. I move to say something to her and she dashes back around the corner, no doubt headed back to the club before I get the chance to explain.

"Fuck!" I exclaim. I look at the fucker at the desk. Couldn't he had told me this shit sooner? "Call. The fucking. Police." I growl at him. His eyes grow large and he can't dial fast enough.

I have just about completed giving my police report when Elliot and Allen come out to the lobby.

"What's going on, Chris?" Allen says as he and Elliot make their way to the counter.

"Elena was here." That's all I say.

"Oh... and how did that work out?" Elliot says. I hold up my finger.

"Do you gentlemen need anything else from me?" I ask.

"No sir. You know this will just go on file since we weren't able to catch her," One of the officers tells me.

"Yes, I know, but I do want it on file."

"Then I think we're done, Sir," he says, closing his notebook.

"Thank you, Gentlemen." They nod and leave as I turn to Allen and Elliot.

"I saw her duck into the men's room in a man's suit and I didn't know for sure if it was her. I made the mistake of following her in there."

"Why didn't you come and get one of us?" Allen asks.

"Because I wasn't thinking. I just wanted her off the premises." I run my hands through my hair. "We had words. She begged me to take her back. When I refused, she kissed me. I slapped her and left her on the men's room floor. I came out here to make a report. She came out of the bathroom just in time for Butterfly to see her coming out of the bathroom and me standing here at the counter with her lipstick smeared all over my face!" I throw another glare at the desk clerk who was at first engrossed in our conversation and is now holding his head down out of sight.

Boy, do I miss Marc.

"Oooohh, that explains it," Elliot says.

"Explains what?"

"Well, Butterfly has become quite the social butterfly. She's dancing with everyone on every song and she has probably had two drinks since you have been out here. It's nearly midnight and you have been gone for quite some time. When I asked where you were, her only response was 'in the lobby.' When I asked if you were okay, she said 'I don't know, why don't you go check and see?' Not knowing what to expect when I got here, I grabbed your hunky brother and here we are."

Shit! Butterfly is mad. I run my hands through my hair again and we all walk back to the party. Sure enough, there she is on the dance floor with... Brian. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and Elliot steps in front of me.

"Okay, settle down, Christian. She has been dancing with everyone, and they're not bumping and grinding. It's just a simple dance." He's right. It's just a dance, but it's a slow dance. They are not bumping and grinding, but they are close. I pay attention to the song playing as I watch my Butterfly dance with another man.

_To all your friends you're delirious,  
So consumed in all your doom.  
Trying hard to fill the emptiness.  
The pieces gone, left the puzzle undone.  
Is that the way it is?_

My anger is slowly being replaced by sorrow as I watch them talking and friendly on the dance floor. This is a man that I know wants my woman, and right now, he has his hands on her—and I can't do anything about it.

_You are beautiful no matter what they say  
Words can't bring you down... oh no  
You are beautiful in every single way  
Yes, words can't bring you down, oh, no  
So don't you bring me down today..._

I used to like this song. Now, I'll never listen to it again.

It seems like it takes forever for the song to end. I hurriedly make my way to the dance floor, and to Butterfly.

"Do you mind if I dance with my girlfriend?" I say to the fucker, trying hard to hold back my ire.

"Sure. Be my guest," he says with a smirk as he kisses Butterfly's hand and backs away. I take Butterfly in my arms but she puts some distance between us.

"You know that I didn't kiss her," is the first thing that I say. She looks up at me, a chill in her eye. I can tell that she has been drinking and her anger may even be multiplied by the alcohol. I try again. "You _know_ that I didn't kiss her," I repeat. Her gaze softens fractionally.

"I know that you didn't kiss her voluntarily. I just don't like the fact that Elena got her lips on you at all," she confesses.

"Then why are you so pissed at me?" I ask.

"I'm not pissed at you. I'm just pissed that she touched my man!" she spit. There is silence for a moment and then she asked, "What took you so long to get back?"

"I was making a police report," I respond. She twists her lips.

"Oh. Okay." We danced the rest of the song in silence and when I went to kiss her, she turned her cheek to me. My stomach actually lurched when my lips hit her cheek. I look down and her and she doesn't raise her eyes to me. I'll never listen to _Just My Imagination_ again, either.

After the New Year's toast, the fireworks, three more attempts to get Butterfly to kiss me and finally a mechanical kiss at midnight, and sending Ray and Amanda off for four days in the Poconos, I sit at the bar nursing another double of bourbon. Most of the people who were only related to Ray or Amanda are leaving now, and the Brian fucker decides to come over to let me know that he is leaving—after he conspicuously kisses my girl on the cheek. I'll put him at about the same age as Amanda, maybe just a couple of years older—definitely nowhere near Ray's age.

"It was quite the party, Christian. I thoroughly enjoyed myself," he says.

"I'm sure you did," I respond. No use in pleasantries. I know that you want my woman and I don't like you. The only reason why I'm not ringing your neck or I haven't bounced you out on your ass is because I know that she would be pissed... or even _more_ pissed, I should say.

"I see. In that case, I just want you to know that if you fuck up, I'll be right there to pick up the pieces and I won't let her get a away this time." I look up at him and he matches my glare.

"From what I can tell, you had your shot before I came along and she apparently didn't want you." I take another swallow of my drink.

"Well, we don't know that because I didn't try. She was getting over that psycho fucker who ended up kidnapping her... on _your_ watch... but that's another story. Nonetheless, I wanted to give her room to get over him and the minute that she did, you were there. I took my time, moved too slow, I admit it—but I won't let it happen again. When I get my chance, I will have her and I won't let her go." I want to deck this fucker. What makes him think that he can say this shit to me where I live? I stand up and face him.

"You won't get the chance because I don't intend to let her go either, Mr. Colostomy." Okay, I think I need to stop drinking. The alcohol is getting to me. He laughs.

"That's very original. Did you think of that all by yourself? Do you know how many times I've heard that? That's so juvenile, but that's okay. Just lets me know about where you stand right now. Don't slip, Grey... on second thought, _please _slip. I'll be watching. Have a good night." With that he was gone. There was no use in telling him that the alcohol made me fuck up his name. _Colostomy _was not a shot at him. It was just the murmurings of a slightly inebriated man. It didn't matter, though. Both situations are equally humiliating. I'll get the last laugh when Butterfly and I are married... _if_ we get married...

Hell, she doesn't even want to kiss me right now.

* * *

_**STEELE**_

"She's clearly not happy to be here. Why did she come?" I ask Mandy after we have gotten her calm and sitting down, wrapped in Daddy's arms.

"It's this sadistic thing with her my mother. It's been that way ever since I could remember. It was like emotional torment was a game to them. Now she just came to rub in my face that her dress was prettier than mine, her husband is younger than mine, she's got more money than me... you name it. She's just a wicked bitch!"

I keep the conversation going while I am watching the door, waiting for Christian. Several minutes go by and still no Christian. Hamilton has come back a long time ago stating that she had escorted Lexia out of the building but Christian was still in the lobby.

"I better go see what's keeping my boyfriend. I'll be right back." I walk out of the club and across the marble floors towards the front desk. Just as I am nearing the front, I hear Christian's raised voice. Oh good Lord, what happened now? I step around the wall that leads to the front desk and he is pointing behind him and simultaneously reaching in his inside pocket. I look in the direction that he's pointing... and it's her! The stank-ass, slutty, nasty, filthy, slimy, Pedo-Bitch She-Thing demon from hell! She's coming from the men's room of all places, wearing a man's suit, smoothing her hair and her clothes, smiling and cleaning her smudged lipstick.

The men's room? What the hell was she doing in the men's room. At that moment, Christian—my boyfriend—turns around and his face is smudged with blood red lipstick. Fuck! They kissed! They fucking kissed! I don't know how long I stood there stunned before I ducked back around the corner. I let the wall hold me up for a while.

They kissed.  
He was wearing her lipstick.  
They kissed.  
_You know that he didn't kiss her.  
_I know what I saw! I saw the lipstick!  
_There's no way in hell he would voluntarily kiss that woman and you know it!_

I can't listen to logic right now. My heart is in my throat and my father's wedding is going on right now. What's more is that he didn't even come after me. I have to put him—this—out of my mind right now. I have to go and host my father's wedding. I put on my happy face and go back to the party. I discovered that the happy face is much easier to maintain after a couple of margaritas and a shot of Patron.

I am dancing my troubles away with everyone who will dance with me. Gary has been my dance partner of old but I could monopolize all of his time since he's with Marilyn now. So the guys all passed me around and we had a really great time. Once the slow music started playing, everyone went back to their dates and I was left with my thoughts. The DJ is playing Beautiful by Christina Aguilera and as soon as the tune begins, there is a hand in front of me. It's not Christian's.

"May I?" Brian asks. I shrug. Why not? He leads me to the dance floor and we start to dance.

"You look down. Are you okay?" Do I tell him that I'm pissed with Christian?

"Yes. It's been a very emotional day," I respond.

"So... Grey, huh?" I look up at him and I can't read the look in his eyes. Then again, my instincts are a bit alcohol-blurred right now.

"Yep, Grey," I respond.

"How did that happen?" he asks. "Is that why he was doing a background check on you?"

"I don't think so," I say.

"You never asked?"

"Well, yeah, I did ask, but since I had background information on him, too, we started fighting and then... we kissed." I remember Christian using that as a shot against him earlier. I didn't mean to bring it up again.

"Yeah, I heard," Brian said, flatly. "So that's how it began?"

"No... not really. We had another fight after that and then he crashed my date... well, it wasn't really a date. I was trying to let an asshole down easy and that didn't work out well. Then Christian showed up and sent over this really expensive bottle of wine and I was too tipsy to drive and... do you really want to hear this?"

"I guess I do. I want to know where I messed up," he laments.

"Messed up?"

"How Grey was able to win you and I wasn't," he clarifies.

"Brian..." I don't want to hurt him. He's such a good guy, but there's so much history there. "You're Daddy's friend."

"But I'm not as old as your father. I'm nowhere near as old as your father."

"I know that, but..." I sigh. "You know that Daddy wouldn't like it."

"Why not? He fell in love with a woman 13 years his junior. There's not even that many years between you and me." You can't argue with that logic. I won't tell him that I thought the same thing when Daddy introduced me to Mandy.

"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it, and anyway, it's a mute point now..."

"Is it?" Geez, I forgot I'm dealing with Brian here. I used to call him Special Forces Brian years ago. He can read anyone like a book. I gaze into his eyes. I don't dare answer that question right now.

"Do you mind if I dance with my girlfriend?" I am snapped out of my thoughts by Christian's voice. Oh, he's finally decided to join us, has he?

"Sure. Be my guest," Brian says. He leans down and pulls my hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on my knuckles and giving me a look that says he knows that something is going on. Christian puts his arms around me, but I immediately see Elena in his arms and take a step away from him.

"You know that I didn't kiss her."

Then why did it take you so damn long to tell me that? Why didn't you come around the corner and say, "Butterfly, I didn't kiss her?"

"You _know_ that I didn't kiss her," he says again after I don't respond.  
_You know that he didn't kiss her.  
_I know that he didn't kiss her, but I saw her lipstick on his lips—lips that I kiss. I can't get that damn picture out of my head. I look up at him.

"I know that you didn't kiss her voluntarily. I just don't like the fact that Elena got her lips on you at all." There. I said it. The stank-ass, slutty, nasty, filthy, slimy, Pedo-Bitch She-Thing demon from hell had her lips where only my lips are supposed to be, and the thought makes me physically ill!

"Then why are you so pissed at me?" He questions.

"I'm not pissed at you. I'm just pissed that she touched my man!" My man, the bitch touched my man... _kissed _my man... and then had the nerve to smile at me as she was leaving... and you didn't come after me! "What took you so long to get back?"

"I was making a police report." That kept you from taking one minute to come to me to tell me that you didn't kiss that bitch? The police weren't even here yet!

"Oh. Okay." Fine. The thoughts are crashing through my head and mixing with the margaritas and Patron as I'm trying to make sense of all of this. If I hadn't seen the lipstick, would he have bothered to tell me that she kissed him? Why didn't he come after me? Was he ashamed? Guilty? Afraid? Her lipstick was all over his mouth. Did she put her tongue in his mouth? Oh, I think I'm going to vomit.

The song is over and Christian leans in to kiss me. Oh, God. If he kisses me, I'm going to vomit for sure. I can still see her lipstick on his lips. I turn my cheek to him and he freezes. Oh shit, wrong move, Steele. I can't even look at him. He drops his arms and walks off the dance floor, completely dejected. I feel the tears coming and I dash to the restroom before they get a chance to fall.

_Nice move, _Butterfly!  
What was I supposed to do? Let him kiss me and vomit in his mouth?  
_I don't know what you were supposed to do, but you sure could have handled it better than that!  
_Oh, give me a fucking break. I'm doing the best that I can here. That bitch kissed him. I can't get that out of my head.  
_Yeah, I know...  
_You know? Then why the hell are you beating me down about this?  
_Because I know that we'll be miserable without him and I don't want to admit that it grosses me out too._

And there you have it. I officially don't know what to do.

I get back to the party and Christian has slipped back into the role of host. He is laughing and talking to people, but only I know that smile is not reaching his eyes. I can't avoid him. The whole party will know something is wrong and Eagle Eye Brian is watching our every move. No doubt, he has analyzed that dance and is plotting his attack as we speak. I walk in and stand next to him. This I can manage.

Then he pulls me close to him.

"Better now?" he asks quietly. I nod noticing that people are looking at us. He smiles and tries to kiss me again. I instinctively turn my cheek to him again and he kisses it like that's what we meant to do.

"Not better now," he says in my ear and pulls his face away from mine. He holds me for a few moments longer and then announces "Does anyone want anything from the bar?"

"Another beer for me, thanks," Daddy says.

"You got it, Ray. Anyone else?" When everyone else declines, Christian smiles at me and releases me then goes off to the bar. Good. I can sit down.

"Ana, what's going on?" Val sits down next to me. I frown at her.

"What do you mean?"

"We've been friends for years, Ana. I know your release dancing when I see it. What's up?" I sigh.

"It's all the emotion that goes along with this damn wedding," I lie. "I think I'll be glad when they are off on their honeymoon."

"Are you sure that's all?" she presses, and I nod. Hey, I'm still in my stilettos. I haven't completely lost my mind. "Well, what are you going to do when Maxie's wedding comes? Hell, you're _in _that one." I laugh insincerely.

"Maxie is not marrying my dad," I begin, "and I can only hope that she doesn't have a psycho sister that comes and tries to ruin the wedding." I drop my head on the table and Val starts to rub my back. A few moments later, I hear his voice again.

"Are you okay?" I look up and Christian is squatting next to me. I don't know what to tell him.

"I'll be fine. Too much party, I think," I lie again.

"Do you want to go upstairs?"

"Not before Dad and Mandy leave."

"Okay." He leans in to kiss me again and I freeze. He must have felt it because he just kissed me on the cheek and walked away.

"What was that about?" Val asks. Oh shit.

"What?"

"You didn't see it? Christian was coming one way and your dad's best man was coming another way and they had a standoff for a moment." Oh, God, tell me that didn't just happen. This night is quickly going to hell. Where is midnight when you need it?

"Christian is pissing and Brian is trying to get in," I answer honestly. I'm too damn tired to lie anymore.

"Oh, God. Does your dad know?"

"Nope, Dad is blissfully clueless" I say, sitting up in my chair.

"Well, don't look now, but Pisser is on his way back." Great.

"If you're feeling up to it, I'd like for us to announce the honeymoon destination," he says softly.

"Okay." I take his hand and he helps me out of my seat. We quickly stand and announce that we are sending Daddy and Mandy on a four-day trip to a resort in the Pocono Mountains. My dad has always wanted to go and I thought this would be perfect. They could stay in and cuddle, go out and see the sights, go shopping, be tourists, and they are right outside of New York if they decide that they want to go there.

Of course, Christian goes to kiss me again, and I'm still not ready. I guess I never noticed how much we just kissed on a regular basis until I counted four attempts in the last hour. This time, he couldn't hide the disappointment in his eyes from me, even though he hid it from everyone else.

At fifteen to midnight, we take our coats, glasses of champagne, and the little ice bucket timers that I got from _Things Remembered _and took the elevators up to the roof. We all set our timers and put them on the ground and at midnight, the roof was singing to the sound of thirty-four timers ringing in the New Year. We were all screaming "Happy New Year" and drinking our champagne.

And then there's the kiss.

He looks down at me and I lift my lips to him—no pucker, no tongue, just lips in this kiss. He pulls back from me with sad, glassy, white-gray eyes.

"Happy New Year," he says, his voice laced with despair.

"Happy New Year," I whisper, and I know that he's hurting now. He tolerated it all night, but now, at this moment, he's hurting. He breaks his gaze from mine and watches the fireworks show from the Space Needle. It's truly spectacular, but my heart is heavy. I feel like shit for how I've made Christian feel tonight, but I still don't know what to do.

When we get back down to the party, we all warm up with spiced apple cider. Christian has disappeared again, and I think that it might be best to leave him be. It's getting close to time for Dad and Mandy to leave when the DJ announces, "The groom has asked to have a dance with his girl."

I think that's very sweet—one more dance with his wife before they are off on their trip. He starts to play _My Girl _by The Temptations and I am immediately whisked down memory lane to all of the times Daddy and I danced to this song. I feel a tap on my shoulder. I look around and it's my Daddy holding his hand out to me.

"I want to dance with my girl," he says softly. My heart just melts. I launch myself into Daddy's arms and weep as he spins me to the dance floor.

"I love you, Daddy," I sob into his neck.

"I love you, too, Annie-Babe," he says as he guides me along the floor. By the time he is done spinning and dipping me to our song, I feel a lot better and a little energized... until I see Christian standing off to the side with a sad smile, watching me dance with my father.

"He loves you, too, Annie. Don't make him wait too long, okay?" What? Did Christian tell Daddy that I won't kiss him? "You should tell him how you feel, that you're ready to get married. He loves you very much." I smile a relieved smile.

"Thank you, Daddy. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine, okay? You've got a new wife to take care of now and a baby on the way, and since you are closer, you'll be seeing a lot more of me, now."

"That's sounds wonderful," he says kissing me on the cheek. When the song ends, he kisses me again and goes over to Mandy.

"Thank you all for sharing our day with us. We will never forget it!" Mandy says as they wave and leave for their honeymoon. I start to say goodbye to our guests since it is after midnight and the bride and groom have left.

"So, he's left you alone again, has he?" Damn it!

"You're very perceptive. Have you been this perceptive all night?" I say, turning around to face Brian.

"Yes, I have," he says with no mirth. "I could tell that you wanted to kill Lexia long before Mandy blew up at her. I could tell you were in terrible pain about something during the first dance although I didn't know what. I could tell that something happened around 10:30 after the Sister from Hell was escorted out of here, that Grey was gone for about thirty minutes and that when he came back you were quite frosty to him and haven't kissed him since. Even that little display on the roof didn't fool me." Damn, he _is_ perceptive. "In fact..." he closes the space in between us, "... I've been perceptive ever since that last asshole broke your heart, and I'm going to be perceptive of this one, too."

"He's not an asshole, Brian," I say softly.

"No? Then where is he?" I couldn't answer that question.

"I love him... very much," I say, not making eye-contact with Brian. I'm weak and emotionally fragile right now and I don't want anything getting in the way of my judgment.

"I know you do, that's why I'm not pressing you. I know that, more than anything, you are loyal even if someone doesn't deserve your loyalty. I'm just saying that I slept this time and I missed my chance. I won't do it again. If he hurts you, I'm going to step in and I'm going to be the Colonel Brandon to your Marianne Dashwood and chase all of the bad memories away." Oh my God! Did he just make a reference to Sense and Sensibility? That was romantic as hell! Christian... Christian... Christian...

Brian bends down and kisses me softly and chastely on the cheek. "Until next time, Ana," and he's gone like a wind.

Thank God!

What the hell was that all about? I don't even like Brian that way!  
_It's the alcohol, Honey.  
_Oh yeah, I forgot about that.  
_It's time to go upstairs.  
_You said a mouthful! Me and alcohol and public—without a chaperone—is definitely not a good mix!

* * *

_**A/N: So the only thing here that may need explaining is the Sense and Sensibility reference. Young Marianne Dashwood and the handsome John Willoughby fall in love. Just as he is about to propose to her (we think) he runs away to London with no explanation. All this time, Colonel Brandon - very well off and much older - is quite taken with Marianne but can only admire her from afar. Marianne and her sister later go to London with a family friend and Marianne sends several messages to John, which are ignored. She finally sees him at a party and is shunned by him as he appears to be there with a date. She leaves dejected and the next day receives a letter that he basically doesn't want to see her again and that he is engaged. She falls into a deep depression and Colonel Brandon offers to escort her and her sister back home, as London holds no charm for them anymore. It should be noted that in another plot line, her sister is also suffering from a broken heart. Anyway, Brandon escorts Marianne and her sister back home, but they stop along the way to spend some time at the home of another woman who had been in London as well. The woman never stops talking for the whole ride and during the chatter, informs Marianne that Willoughby's house can be seen from the top of their hill. Keep in mind that these are the rolling hills of late 18th-century England, so the top of the hill could have been two miles away. When no one was looking, Marianne takes off for the hill to stand nostalgically watching Willoughby's house in the rain for God only knows how long. Colonel Brandon brings her back and she falls deathly ill. (This is the television version. In the book, she just falls ill because she is grieving and neglecting her health). As she gets well, Brandon is by her side the entire time, helping to nurse her and being her companion. She eventually falls in love with him and they get married, with Willoughby brokenhearted and watching from the shadows as he is still in love with Marianne.**_

_**Not necessarily useless information, but hell, I just wanted to tell that little tale. You should read the book; it's a classic and very good! ;-)**_

_**Songs:  
**__Percy Sledge - When A Man Loves A Woman  
Smokey Robinson - __Ooo Baby Baby  
Luther Vandross and Cheryl Lynn - __If This World Were Mine  
Christina Aguilera - Beautiful  
The Temptations - __Just My Imagination_  
The _****______Temptations - __****________My__****________ Girl_  


_**Pictures of places, cars, fashion, etc can be found at pinterest ladeeceo/mending-dr-steele/**_

_**Shoot me over an email at divinebronzegoddess at gmail . com (no spaces of course and use the "at" sign) to join my mailing list and stay up to date on blogs, publishing of my stories, etc.**_

_**Feel free to review—it is greatly appreciated.**_

_**Love and handcuffs, **_  
_**Lynn x**_


	14. Tying Up Loose Ends

_**Yes, Ana was a real bitch in the last chapter... but people, when have I ever written anything without a method to my madness? There is always a reason for something I do. Every time there was some serious conflict, it was because something needed to come out. Keep reading...**_

_**Kalii13—your PM's are blocked. I need to respond to you. ;-)**_

_**Rosanna Roa—please email me. ;-)**_

_**Sonnie and Chelsea—send me your email address or email me. ;-)**_

_**JourneyGirl—the message was incomplete. I didn't get your email. Put spaces in it. ;-)**_

_**I have opted not to respond to guest reviews anymore unless utterly necessary (like above). Since I said I was leaving, they are particularly brutal now. So for my guest reviewers—particularly those of you who have followed both stories and respond frequently, but also those of you may be new to my stories and everyone in between, please get on my mailing list. I am speeding up my departure to greener pastures. :-)**_

_**I did accidentally delete some guest reviews. I'm sorry. I meant to delete just one—somebody saying something about me being a wanna-be or something... I don't even remember because I didn't read the whole thing. I'm just so done with the insults, but I think there were two other reviews that expressed displeasure with Ana's behavior—I DIDN'T MEAN TO DELETE YOUR REVIEWS, I AM SO SORRY! I will address those and say yes, Ana was a bitch, but see the first line of the A/N for that. **_

_**If you have sent me an email to get on the mailing list, I have answered all of the emails that I have gotten. If you haven't gotten a response from me, I need you to send me another message or an email. I received a lot of PMs with incomplete email addresses, one email that was so obscure and unidentifiable that I was afraid I had a troll, and a few email addresses that bounced back undeliverable. So if you haven't heard from me, please send me another email. If you are sending your email address through PM's on Fanfiction, you have to put spaces in it or Fanfiction will erase your email address from the message. Example: divinebronzegoddess at gmail. com. Yes, that is my email address if you want to send an email - YOU NEED TO GET ON THE MAILING LIST IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY!**_

_**If you are already at the other site, PLEASE REVIEW THERE, NOT HERE (or both if you like, but at least over there)...**_

_**All prior disclaimers apply here. **_

**Chapter 14—Tying Up Loose Ends**

_**STEELE**_

It is nearly 2:00am when we finally get back to the penthouse. James, Al, Valerie and Elliot are spending the night with us and we had to make sure that the other guests were all safely on their way home before we went upstairs. We thought that we would sit around for a little while before turning in but everybody is exhausted, so I show everyone to the guest rooms and get them settled in for the night, agreeing to meet for breakfast whenever we roll out of bed.

I go into our bedroom expecting to find Christian, but he's not there. I know I saw him come into the apartment and I'm fairly certain that he hasn't left. I look around the apartment—his study, my office, the piano—no Christian. I finally find him on the balcony... in the cold... nursing another drink. How many has he had tonight? I know I have had more than my share, but I also know that he has had more than me. I put my coat on and go out to the balcony with him. He doesn't even acknowledge my presence until I speak.

"Hi." He literally jumps at the sound of my voice.

"Hi." He watches me as I walk over and sit down next to him on the chaise.

"Long night," I say. He's still looking at me.

"Yeah... it was." He turns back to his drink.

"What were you and Brian talking about?" I ask.

"What do you think we were talking about?" he says with no malice, looking at me again.

"Me."

"You're right." He looks away again. "He wanted me to know his hat was in the ring if I hurt you like David did." He finishes the last of his drink.

"I know." He looks at me again. "He told me the same thing, Christian." He gazes at me for a long time.

"Do you think I would ever hurt you like that?" he asks, appalled.

"No," I answer, but it sounds more like a question. I'm shivering.

"Come on, you're cold. Let's go inside." He takes my hand and leads me into the apartment. We take off our coats and he fixes himself another drink. I want to say something about the amount that he is drinking tonight, but it's a fight that I really don't want to have. He turns on the fireplace and sits in on the sofa in front of it.

"I wanted to kill that guy," he says. I look over at him. "The things he said to me, the way he was gawking at you... laying claim to you that way... Nobody has ever disrespected me in that way before, especially not where I live! I wanted to put a real hurting on his ass, but I didn't, because of your father and because of you." He takes a swallow of his drink. I would never want him to allow someone to disrespect him because of me. We had this conversation with the Scooby Gang Bang. We threw Lexia out of the wedding because of that and she's "family."

"Don't do that again," I say to him. He looks at me bemused. "Don't allow anyone to disrespect you because of me, particularly not where you lay your head. I would never expect that of you and you don't deserve it. If I had known that he was doing that to you, I would have thrown him out myself." He turns back to his drink again.

"That's good to know, but he said something to you. You didn't expect him to say something to me?" He swirls the amber liquid around in his tumbler. "Anyway, it was right before he left. I guess he told me, huh?" He takes another swallow of his drink. There is silence for a long few moments before he says, "You can't keep doing this, Anastasia."

_Anastasia_? I frown, my face asking the question my lips couldn't.

"You can't keep shutting me down like this. I get that you are shocked and angry and even hurt that that woman's lips touched mine, but you can't keep treating me this way..." Treating him this way? Treating him _what_ way? Again, my face must have asked the question.

"I have stood by you every single step of the way in every single thing that you have endured since we have been together—_every single step_—but whenever something happens that you don't like, you don't even talk to me. You just shut down. And this—this is just unacceptable. You know that I didn't kiss that woman. You _know _it. Yet you treated me like the plague for the rest of the night. Even your little admirer noticed it, I'm sure." He's right, he did notice. "I know that I have had to deal with these new emotions—and I've been doing a damn good job—but Ana, maybe _you _need to consider seeing another shrink, because you're not dealing with yours."

I am dumbfounded. I can't ask where this came from because I know, but do I really shut him out like that?

"Christian, I tell you everything," I say, trying to defend myself.

"No you don't!" His voice is a little louder than it should be, but he notices it and immediately calms himself. "You don't tell me everything, and that's okay. I can live with that. What I can't tolerate is you holding back and shutting down when it's most important. What I _won't _tolerate is you blaming me for something that I didn't do and punishing me for something that is not my fault." _Punishing _him? I wasn't...

"I wasn't punishing you, Christian. I just didn't know how to handle it. All I could see was that filthy woman with her hands on you... her _mouth_ on you..." I visibly shudder at the thought.

"Then you should have talked to me!" He snaps. "Instead, you treated me like I was contagious all night. Do you have any idea how that made me feel? Then to have that asshole come sauntering over to me talking shit after I watched him kiss you. Should I reciprocate now, Ana? Should I treat you the way that you treated me?" He walks away from me over to the fireplace, still holding his drink. He is mad now, or maybe this was hiding all night... for months even... every time I shut him out. "I can't do this anymore."

Okay, I'm awake now! Can't do what? He doesn't want me anymore? Can't do what? My heart clenches and I feel the air leaving my body. I want to faint. My knees literally get weak and I fall onto the sofa to keep from falling onto the floor.

Can't do what?  
Can't do what?  
Is he breaking up with me?  
Did I really fuck up this time?

I won't cry. I don't deserve to cry. I hurt him, badly, and I don't deserve to cry.

"I love you, Ana. I really do, but I won't be your punching bag, not like this," he says his back still to me. I am having an inner panic attack back here and the Bitch is on the floor kicking and screaming and throwing a _massive_ temper tantrum. I remain silent. I don't know what to say. If he's breaking up with me, I have to let him have his say.

Does he think I want Brian? Is that it?  
What am I going to do?  
I feel like I'm dying.  
I literally feel like I'm dying.

"If we are going to make this work, if we have any hope of a life together, you can't do this to me." Was that a flicker of light? Do I dare hope? "I don't know what to tell you, but you can't shut me out—especially not while I'm feeling every bit of pain that you feel, every bit of fear, and I'm going through all of your trials with you." He still has his back to me, which is a good thing, because I am a shaking mess right now. I don't know what to do—I haven't a clue.

"Christian, I... I'm sorry, I..." my voice sounds like a mouse, but he doesn't turn around. I believe he knows what he will see if he does and he just won't. He's right. I do shut him out. I don't mean to, but I do it anyway. People, circumstances, things have disappointed me too much. So when I see that disappointment coming, I shut down. I don't know how to deal with him when he does something that seriously displeases me—or if I have the _perception_ that he has done something that seriously displeases me. The Elliot fiasco, when he returned from Green Valley, on the plane on the way home from Anguilla, Flynngate, and now the Pedo-Kiss—I shut him out every time when all he ever does is love me.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I didn't know that's what I was doing."

"Ana, how could you not know?" Now he turns around. His face is frozen and his eyes are cold. He is quite upset with me. He's looking through me, not at me. This was the straw that broke the camel's back. "You leave me out in the cold whenever it suits you. I'm not going to do it anymore, Ana. I'm just not." He walks past me, glass in hand, and disappears down the hall.

I feel like my body is going to collapse in on itself. I've gone too far. I've really gone too far this time. I don't want to cry. I want to scream.

Balcony?

No, too close.

Roof! Still close, but not as close.

I grab my coat and gloves and quietly leave the penthouse, taking the stairs to the roof. It's bitter cold out here and I feel it down to my bones, but I'm sure that I was cold before I got here. I look out over the sleeping city of Seattle. It's well into the night yet lights are still twinkling all over the city. I take in as deep a breath as the cold will allow me, reach down into my stomach, and let out a blood-curdling scream—long and loud—followed by the cries that I wouldn't release down in the penthouse. Gut-wrenching, blubbering, snotty tears and cries that are so hard that they reverberate in your chest and make your throat hurt. I'm on my bare knees on the cold concrete of the roof and I can't even feel it.

I hurt Christian. I really hurt Christian. And now I am hurting. I deserve to hurt, though. If he leaves me, if he breaks up with me, I deserve it.

… but oh God does it hurt.

I cry and cry and cry and cry, hoping to ease some of this pain that I feel, but relief never comes. How could I be so selfish? So stupid? What the fuck it wrong with me? He's only the most handsome, caring, kind, sensual, loving, protective, considerate, generous man I've ever met—besides my father, minus the "sensual" part—and I manage to chase him away.

Every time I think I'm getting the tears under control, they just come back heavier. What if I've lost him? What if I've pushed him away forever? I swear, I'm joining a convent!

I continue to cry for the love that I may have lost when I see a handkerchief dangling in my face. I look up to see who's holding it and I immediately know that's not Christian's hand.

It's Jason.

I take the handkerchief from his hand and clean my face as much as I can.

"How did you know?" I ask him, both relieved and disappointed that it's not Christian.

"It's 3:00am, Ana. You set off silent alarms all over the place," he says squatting down to me. "What did he do now?" I shake my head and take a shuddering breath.

"It wasn't him. It was me," I answer mournfully. "I fucked up." Jason is clearly surprised but just holds his hand out to me.

"Can you please berate yourself inside and not out here on the roof on the cold concrete?" he says. I take his hand and he helps me off the ground. We go back inside, down the stairs, and back into the apartment. I fully expect Christian to be in the great room, pacing and running his hands through his hair.

He's not.

Good God, I have truly fucked up.

Jason stands there looking at me awaiting my decision. I take off my coat and assure him that I won't go wandering out in the cold again. When he goes back to the guest quarters, I stand in the middle of the great room, hoping that the answer to that burning question will come floating down to me...

Have I lost him?

I watch the hallway where he earlier disappeared, willing him to walk back out to tell me that he loves me and I am forgiven.

Nope—forget it, Kid.

The fire is still going. I take off my shoes and wrap myself in the faux fur throw. I am freezing down to my soul, so I curl up in the smallest ball that I can and try to warm myself, tucking the throw under and around me everywhere.

No more crying now, Dr. Steele. Tomorrow you will go and find yourself a nice, quiet convent. For now, I curl up on the sofa and, with violently shuddering breaths, I will myself to sleep.

When I open my eyes, I am disoriented. It's still dark out and I couldn't have slept more than an hour. I raise my head and realize that I must have been crying in my sleep because there are runny make-up stains on the white sofa. I run my hand over the stain and silently curse myself.

"The furniture cleaners can get that out."

I nearly jump out of my skin! Christian is sitting on the sofa that is to the left of this one, technically above my head while I was sleeping. I sigh heavily and run my hand over the stain again. Yep, a nice, quiet convent...

"You are such a foolish woman." Huh? Where did that come from. "I couldn't stop loving you if I tried. Don't you get that?" Um... I... um... Oh, forget it. My head feels like lead and I couldn't form a coherent thought if I tried.

"I slapped her," he says quietly. What? Who?

"Huh?"

"Elena. I slapped her. When she kissed me, I pushed her away and when she came back at me, I slapped her." Oh, her—I had all but forgotten about her. I was wrapped up in the despair of hurting and losing the man that I love. He slapped Elena? Damn, really? I sit up on the sofa, my bones still cold.

"You did?" I say, and I can hear the awe in my own voice.

"Yes, I did," he responds. He finally looks up at me. His face falls momentarily, but only momentarily. He's drinking again, but it looks like orange juice this time. The shuddering breaths come unwelcome but I cried so hard that I have to expect them. "Why do you do this, Ana?" he asks, looking down at his glass.

"Because I'm a selfish asshole," I say, more to myself than to him. Even with my head down, I can see his head snap up at me.

"You know that's not true as much as I do," he shoots. "There's not a selfish bone in your body. That's a cop-out and you know it, Doctor, but there's a reason why you do this and you need to figure out what it is." I raise my head to him and he's glaring at me. He's calling me on my bullshit and he refuses to let me hide behind excuses. I guess I've got some work to do if I don't want to move into a convent. I wrap myself in the throw and lay my head on the back of the sofa, curling up again.

"Okay," I say softly. What else can I say really?

"And that's another thing," he says, setting his drink on a coaster and moving over to the sofa next to me. He has one arm on the arm of the sofa and one arm along the back... but not around me. "You need to stop doing that, too." Doing what? "That shrinking thing—you're running away. I don't know what triggers that, but you're running away. You told me that you didn't see Flynn helping me. Well, Ana, I don't see Maxine helping you. You're a grown woman and you're still curling up into a ball when the world gets too scary. I know things get rough, I really do. I see it with my own eyes. I completely understand that there may be a need to sneak off into yourself once in a while, but Ana you do it entirely too much. I'm almost remiss to talk to you about anything contrary, because I'm afraid that at any second, you're going to turn into a woodlouse!"

A woodlouse? What the fuck is a woodlouse!? I jerk my head back at him, clearly confused at what he is trying to say.

"A doodlebug?" he says. Nope, I'm still lost.

"A pill bug?" I got nothing.

"Roly-poly?" Ah! Okay, now I got it. Pretty appropriate—gross, but appropriate. I don't know what to say to him. Who knew that a great psychologist with a waiting list a mile long was so fucked up herself? Then again, I _am _only human.

He's sitting close to me now and I inhale his scent—his musky cologne mixed with his natural body odor and the smell of bourbon—stale and fresh—on his breath. I let the scents comfort me and help release the grip that I feel on my chest. He knows what I'm doing and he looks at me—his eyes questioning, hurting, loving, and bemused all at the same time. I can't take it anymore. If he rejects me, I'll accept that, but right now...

I crawl into his lap. He gasps as I bring my body close to his. I close my eyes and brush my lips against his. I'm still slightly inebriated, but the mixture of scents on him seems strangely comforting, almost forbidden, and erotically intoxicating.

He closes his eyes and allows me to brush my lips against his. His shoulders and chest rise and fall hard as he is trying to control his heavy open-mouthed breathing and I know he is lost in this simple contact... but he won't touch me.

"Kiss me, Christian... please," I breathe, praying that he won't reject me like I have rejected him all night. He gently runs his tongue over my lips, then gently bites my bottom lip and sucks it into his mouth. I gasp. I have missed this—even if only for the last few hours. The emotional separation is worse than that physical, and I need him. I need him to know that I need him. He finally wraps his arms around my body, dips me, and kisses me with gentle, deep, sweet abandon so that I am certain that he would _never_ kiss someone else like he kisses me. This kiss is intense and it rocks me to my very core as I grab handfuls of his hair and he dips me over his lap, holding me there and sensually sucking the very life out of me. His lips never leave mine, not even to breathe. I'm whimpering and moaning a lot because the kiss lasts so long that I nearly pass out.

"Christian!" I gasp when I he finally releases my mouth. He is still holding me up, suspended in his arms and in his love.

"I love you," he breathes between kissing me on any part of my body that he can reach—my chest, my neck, shoulder, my arm... "Only you, Ana, only you. Please don't ever doubt me again."

"Christian... please... kiss me again." One arm keeps me suspended while the other hand cups my face and he is kissing me again. His tongue is caressing mine, claiming my mouth, and making up for all of the kisses that he didn't get tonight. We are kissing away all of the Brians and the Lexias and the Pedo-Bitches and the roly-polies of the night until there is nothing in our special place but us.

"Baby... you taste so good." That's it. I can't take it anymore. I grab his hair and plunge his mouth into mine, kissing him with everything that I have.

"Make love to me, Christian. I need you... please..." I need that connection that only we make. He effortlessly lifts me from the sofa and carries me to our bedroom.

* * *

"I thought I had lost you."

I awake to Christian's voice talking to my sleeping body. I'm only semi-conscious after we made love more times than I can remember and I fell into an exhausted sleep just as the sky was turning purple-pink with the first sunrise of the new year.

"I thought you would never want to touch me again... or kiss me again..." I am lying on my stomach hugging my pillow and facing away from him. He is outlining the art on my back—something that normally sends me into an erotic frenzy, but there's something different in his touch right now.

"Then your little admirer decides to tell me that he will be actively vying for your attention and that just set me off." He continues to caress my back. I'm coming more into focus now as he continues to speak.

"I normally simply crush people who try to take what's mine, but last night, I felt like you were slipping away... because of _her_. I was so angry and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. It's like he knew, and he came to rub salt in my wounds." He _did _know, unfortunately. Nobody had to tell him; he just watched our interaction... and how I treated you.

"I can't believe I let her get that close to me. I filed the police report, but the damage was already done. Allen and Elliot were right—I should have gotten backup before I went in there. Better yet, I should have called the police the moment I saw her. That woman is the devil. She is hell, evil, tragedy, and misfortune all rolled into one. I don't know how I let her near me." I roll over to face him as he is berating himself. "What were you thinking when I tried to kiss you?" he asks. I sigh.

"That all I could see was her lipstick, even after you washed it away. A while back, she made it a point to let me know that she had you first. That's all that I could see, even though I knew deep down that she had probably orchestrated the whole thing, she marked you. She knew that's how I would see it. She was counting on it and I fell right into it. I'm sorry," I respond. He shakes his head.

"I'll accept your apology for how you treated me—that was unnecessary and cruel—but don't apologize for something that woman has done. She's a wicked bitch and a master manipulator who loves to play mind games, and I wish they had kept her ass behind bars. You would think that she wouldn't want to bring attention to herself, but she has gotten worse since the arrest!"

"She's desperate," I point out. "She's losing everything and refusing to go down quietly. Is she capable of violence, Christian? I mean, _serious_ violence?" He knows what I mean. I'm not talking about Domme whipping and caning. I mean homicidal-type violence, because she is _very _quickly becoming a woman scorned.

"I would say 'no,' not that I've seen anyway, but I don't know. Until a few months ago, I thought she was my friend and look how that turned out." He frowns deeply and starts to stroke my back some more. "I don't usually drink that much. I never drink that much, not for a long time anyway."

"I'm surprised you're not hung over," I respond. He chuckles a bit.

"Make no mistake, I paid for it. That vigorous workout helped to burn off some of the alcohol, but I've been awake for several hours suffering."

"You were quite the sex machine this morning, even more so than I am accustomed to. Alcohol makes you quite amorous, Mr. Grey." He leans down and plants a gentle kiss on my lips.

"I never want to feel that way again," he whispers, "like you don't want me. I love you too much and I can't take it. I'll admit it. I can put up with other fuckers wanting you, but I can't put up with you not wanting me." His eyes lock onto mine, searching and beseeching. I scoot over close to him, tangle my fingers in his hair, and pull his lips down to mine. I kiss him deeply and passionately, until he is moaning into my mouth. When I release him, his lips are slightly swollen and his eyes are hooded, dazed.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'll do better, I promise." He looks at me for a moment and then closes his eyes and nods.

"Okay," he whispers. I bring his head down to lay on my breast and run my fingers through his hair. I run through the events of last night in my head. At least Daddy and Mandy didn't see anything amiss—except for that bitch Lexia. My God! If I were lucky enough to have a sister, I sure wouldn't be that shitty to her... at least I hope that I wouldn't. If she were in cahoots with Carla, I probably wouldn't speak to her _at all_. For all I know, I could have a little sister on the way. That would be so cool. I would spoil her rotten!

My ringing iPhone broke me from my thoughts. I try to move to answer it only to find that Christian has me in a death grip and has fallen asleep on my breast. He needs his rest, but I need to get up. Not only do I need to answer my phone, but I also have to pee.

I wiggle out of his grip and he looks at me with sleepy gray eyes. "Go back to sleep, Baby, I have to pee," I say stroking his hair again. He nods and wraps his arms around a pillow, bunching it under his head. It only takes a few seconds and he's softly snoring again. I pick up my iPhone and what I see makes me glad that I didn't answer it.

It was Carla.

Speak of the fucking devil. I have no idea how she got my number. She has called several times in the last few months. The first time I answered her call, I felt like my ears were going to explode. I didn't recognize the number, but the 702 area code had given me immediate flashbacks of Sullivan's call. I never answered her calls again after that, but the masochist in me saved her number so that I know who it is when they call. I always listen to her messages because I want to be warned in some way if she is within close proximity of me at all! I decide that her message can wait until later.

A shower, a pair of yoga pants and an oversized U-Dub sweatshirt later, I am listening to Carla's message. It appears that Stephen is very ill and is in the hospital now. He has been ill for quite some time, but wouldn't go to the hospital and now he has slipped into a coma.

His liver is failing and he is dying.

He wanted to be put on the transplant list, but he's an active alcoholic and they have rules and wah wah wah wah wah wah...

Stephen is dying and I guess she thinks that my rich boyfriend and I can stop it. I would never wish death on anyone—I'm not that cold—but I hate to say that I still don't care. I hate saying it because someone is dying, and I don't care. That's cold. He was horrible to me and he never changed. He used my tragedy for personal gain and still treated me like a nobody, all the way up to the very last time that I saw him alive. I won't miss him, but for reasons of my own, I will go to his funeral. I know she'll inform me when he has passed away. She won't miss the opportunity for that bit of attention.

From what she says, it won't be long now.

It looks like I will be planning a trip to Green Valley soon. I might as well kill two birds with one stone and turn over that video to the proper authorities.

Val and I are supposed to make brunch for the guys while they watch Oregon and Stanford play in the Rose Bowl. When I leave our bedroom, the apartment is as quiet as a library. Time is ticking into the future, so I might as well get started on brunch. I made my cheesy ham and hash brown casserole in advance, so I put it in the oven to reheat. It's just like the cheesy potatoes that Gail and I now have to make at least once a week for Jason and Christian, only it's made with cubed hash brown potatoes and cubed ham, then topped with fresh Parmesan cheese. I slice some strawberries and put them in a bowl with blueberries for the Belgian waffles, which will be made last with the eggs Benedict. I start to fry an ample amount of link sausage by the time Valerie arises from her slumber. It's nearly 1pm by now.

"Ana, why didn't you wake me?" she asks. I shrug.

"I've been alone with my thoughts," I tell her as she pulls her beignet dough from the refrigerator. "I've been getting more texts and calls from St. John about Melanie and I even got a call this morning from Carla."

"Carla!?" she asks aghast. "What did _she _want—to wish you a Happy New Year?" She puts flour on the counter and starts to roll out portions of her dough.

"No, she called me to tell me that Stephen is dying." Val stops rolling her dough.

"He's dying?" she asks. I nod. "How do you feel about that?" She has started rolling her dough again.

"I don't," I reply flatly. "She wants Christian's money to find him a kidney. That's the only reason that she can be calling me. Those people had absolutely no compassion or consideration for me when I lay in the hospital damn near dead. They _can't _think I care about his ass!" I mean, I may feel some kind of inkling of a twinge for Carla... maybe. She did birth me after all—but Stephen? Nothing. Nothing but contempt and anger and hatred that I have been trying to overcome for years! Nope, no tears to be shed there.

"Is there anything that can be done for him?" Val asks as she fills a large pot with oil.

"Short of a black market kidney? No. It's pretty much a done deal for him. I'm pretty certain that his insides are all pickled anyway and his organs will soon go into complete failure, so..." I shrug again. Val goes back to her dough and starts cutting the beignets.

"Won't you feel a little guilty just letting him die without trying to help him, Ana?" she questions. I pause for just a moment to ponder that.

"Nope." I say as I continue with the sausage and then add pieces of Canadian bacon to another frying pan. She comes over to the stove with her dough.

"You really won't, will you?" she asks as she puts the first beignets in the hot oil. I shake my head. "I can tell. You didn't even bother with an explanation," she adds. I sigh.

"Is there really anything to explain?" I ask.

"I guess not," she says removing the first batch of beignets and setting them aside to drain while starting on another. Damn, those little things cook fast, but I never got the hang of them. That's why I always ask Val to make them.

"I am going to the funeral," I say as I remove the last of the sausage and concentrate on the Canadian bacon and poaching the eggs. Now, she's shocked.

"What the hell for!?"

"To make sure that he's dead. I don't put _anything _pass Carla and Stephen Morton. This could be another one of their ploys to get money or get into my good graces—a scheme or a sad cry for sympathy, especially since they are most like under investigation for that $750,000." I start another batch of Canadian bacon.

"And when you go to Green Valley and he's really dead, then what?" Val asks.

"Then I will turn that video over to the Nevada Attorney General and come back home until and if they need me to testify."

"And if you go to Green Valley and it's all a hoax and he's not dead?"

"Then I will turn that video over to the Nevada Attorney General and come back home until and if they need me to testify." I repeat.

"Is it really that simple, Ana?"

"Yep." I respond. "I'm not looking for any closure when it comes down to them. I just want to make sure that he's dead... and I may have a few words for my _mother_."

"Really? What would you have to say to her?" Val covers her beignets in cinnamon and confectioner's sugar.

"I don't know, Val. Stephen—I have nothing for him, but my mother... there's something that I need to say to her. I just don't know what it is, yet."

Val and I finish brunch of eggs Benedict, maple sausage, cheesy ham and hash brown casserole, Belgian waffles with strawberries, blueberries and whipped cream, French beignets, fresh fruit salad, orange juice, coffee, and champagne. As we were finishing cooking, the zombie men rise from their various rooms—everyone, that is, except Christian.

"Well, just in time," I say. "You gentlemen can set the table. I will go see what is keeping the master of the manor." Various grumblings come from the men and I throw a death glare at them. "If you ever want me to cook another thing for you ever again in life, set the table."

The men all scramble to the kitchen and Valerie jumps out of the way.

I open the door to the bedroom and Christian is just as I left him—hugging the pillow and snoring quietly. I climb on the bed and sit up next to him, running my hands through his hair again. His eyes flutter open and he looks up at me.

"Hey," he says, his voice raspy.

"Hey," I respond.

"What time is it?"

"Nearly 2:30." He looks up at me.

"It can't be," he protests.

"It is."

"Did I miss brunch?"

"No, we're setting the table now, but all of the hungry men are out there, so you better hurry," I warn.

"Tell those bastards that if they eat my food out of my house and don't leave any for me..."

"I'll tell them, now get up." I brush his hair back and kiss his forehead before I climb out of the bed.

"I'm glad that sweatshirt is long," he says. I turn around and look at him over my shoulder.

"Huh?" I say, bemused.

"I don't have to worry about Allen and James, but you are wearing those damn yoga pants again and I would hate to have to bounce my brother out of here on his ass. So like I said, I'm glad that sweatshirt is long." I twist my lips and wave him off.

"Get your ass out of bed, Grey," I say while closing the door.

* * *

_**GREY**_

I am watching Anastasia interact with her friends and my brother and she is, as always, the social Butterfly. She is laughing and joyful, commanding the room with her explanation of her first meeting with Amanda's sister, Lexia. Her legs are crossed and she's sitting at one end of my dining table, the seat to her immediate right is empty. Her friends are laughing with her and if I didn't know better, I would swear that James was hanging on her every word. I'm sure that my possessiveness is just getting the best of me since I am certain that he is more than smitten with Allen. If they get engaged before we do, there will be hell to pay.

"I have to say that I am very glad that Christian has forgiven us for our behavior," Valerie begins. "That has to be one of the biggest faux pas any of us has _ever_ engineered!" Butterfly takes a sip of her drink.

"Well, not all of you," she says. "He's having a harder time releasing what Maxine did. I'm torn on it. Part of me wants him to let it go so that we can all get back to normal. Maxine feels the tension every time she's in the same room with him. Pretty soon, I think she's going to limit their interactions. The other part of me completely understands how he feels. You guys wanted answers even though you all admit that you went about it the wrong way. Maxie was completely out of line. We've been going through a lot and I haven't been making things any better with my tendency to shut down..."

"Do _you _forgive her, Jewel? You know, the people that we love feed off of what we feel."

"I forgive her," Butterfly says. "I love her, but that doesn't expunge the fact that she was very wrong. I'm upset and hurt for how she treated Christian and livid for how she treated my father. I forgive the act, but the hurt is going to take a little longer to get over." I read Butterfly's face and I can see the turmoil playing in her head, no doubt reliving last night's discussion between her and me. Hmm... Allen's words from a moment ago play back in my head:

_The people that we love feed off of what we feel._

She's dealing with her own feelings for Maxine. She doesn't need to deal with mine, too. It's time that I handle that situation. I stroll out of the hallway and into the dining area.

"Did you start without me?" I ask acting affronted.

"I told you to get your ass out here, Grey. People are hungry!" she says as she stands and picks up a plate. "What would you like?"

"No, sit. You cooked. I'll can feed myself." I smile at her. Her look goes from confusion to a soft smile.

"Whatever you say, Mr. Grey," she replies as she sinks sultrily back into her seat. I impulsively lick my lips.

"Oh, good Lord, could you two _please_ stop eye-fucking each other over the food!" Allen exclaims, and the table breaks out in laughter.

Brunch went very smoothly. I am experiencing quite a few new things with Butterfly. New Years Day brunch is normally hosted at my parents' house. Mom was only too happy to relent this time to allow the "young people" to have some time to themselves. Ethan and Mia agreed to stay with Grace and Carrick as I knew that we would not be able to get over there for brunch after hosting the wedding last night and then company thereafter, not to mention the impromptu hours of making love to Butterfly in the very early morning.

I'm rolling over thoughts of this guy Brian once everyone has left and I am in my study getting ready for work. I need more information on him. Hell, he has already looked into my background and has thrown down the gauntlet when it comes to my woman. Had I been sober last night, I might have decked him. However, I have to remember that I am a businessman and things must be handled in a more diplomatic manner—forceful, but diplomatic. I send an email to Welch that he will get in the morning.

_**To: Alexander Welch**_

_**Re: Breadcrumbs **_

_**Date: Tuesday, January 1, 2013, 20:18**_

_**From: Christian Grey**_

_**I had a competitor tell me at a social gathering last night that my team left "breadcrumbs" all over the place when they were doing what should have been a covert background check. This doesn't please me at all since he is now aspiring to acquire one of my most prized possessions. Can you please be sure that this doesn't happen again while you are doing a background check on Brian Cholometes of Montesano? You may face some roadblocks getting information on him. I have a feeling that he's not a civilian.**_

_**Christian Grey, CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc. **_

I press send and start to review the assets of some of our Green Valley targets when my email pings.

_**To: Christian Grey**_

_**Re: Breadcrumbs?**_

_**Date: Tuesday, January 1, 2013, 20:25**_

_**From: Alexander Welch**_

_**Sir, **_

_**To which investigation are you referring? **_

_**Alexander Welch, Director of Corporate Security, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.**_

I guess that little but of information might have been useful.

_**To: Alexander Welch**_

_**Re: Are you working? **_

_**Date: Tuesday, January 1, 2013, 20:33**_

_**From: Christian Grey**_

_**The background check on Anastasia. Cholometes is the one who told her that GEH was looking into her background. He was also able to run a background check on me. Put a lockdown on that if you can. **_

_**Christian Grey, CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc. **_

I didn't expect him to respond. It's nearly 9pm on New Years Day.

_**To: Christian Grey**_

_**Re: I'm Always Working, Sir**_

_**Date: Tuesday, January 1, 2013, 20:39**_

_**From: Alexander Welch**_

_**I see. I'll look into it and get back to you ASAP. No, he can't be a civilian. Getting information on Ms. Steele's alias was like a top secret mission. Either he has friends in high places or he **_**is ****_in high places. _**

_**Alexander Welch, Director of Corporate Security, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.**_

Great! Now I've got James Bond gunning to take my girl away from me. Not going to happen, _Colostomy!_

_**To: Alexander Welch**_

_**Re: The Higher They Are...**_

_**Date: Tuesday, January 1, 2013, 20:46**_

_**From: Christian Grey**_

_**The further they fall. You and I both know that no one is untouchable. Get me the information that I need on this guy. It is imperative and failure is not an option.**_

_**Christian Grey, CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc. **_

I may need some covert information that Welch can't give me. As if a little birdie whispered in his ear, Jason comes into my office.

"All's quiet, Sir. I'm about to retire."

"Before you do, I need to pick your brain a bit." I gesture to the seat in front of my desk and Jason takes a seat. "You were at the wedding. Ray's best man, did you get a good look at him?" Jason frowns.

"About my age, ex-Marine?" he asks.

"How did you know that he was ex-Marines?"

"Besides the fact that he and Ray told me, he's got Special Ops written all over him." Jason says.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I can just spot those things. That's what you pay me for. What's this about?" I sigh.

"He's got his sights set on Ana," I say. "He has told me in no uncertain terms that he is waiting for me to trip and fall so that he can slide in and take my place. I'm not afraid to admit that I'm out of my comfort zone here. I don't know how to protect myself from an attack from a Special Ops ex-Marine." Jason frowns as me.

"What do you think he's going to do?" he asks.

"I don't know. Right now, he's giving me the impression that he just watching and waiting, but he's the person who led Ana to me as the one that was looking into her past. He told me at the party that my team left breadcrumbs that led him straight to me." I run my hands through my hair.

"So... I would say that if he was going to do anything, he would do it through information," Jason says. Shit, there's a lot that you can do through information.

"Would you get with Barney and make sure that all of my firewalls and encryptions are secure—personal and professional? Ana's too?" Jason nods.

"No problem, Sir. Any idea when you expect him to do something?"

"None whatsoever," I lament.

"Why the extra electronic security precautions?" Her voice brings me out of my lament, but also puts me on alert. I look up and she is standing just inside my office with her hands on her hips... The no-nonsense stance.

"I'm preventing an electronic attack," I say.

"My systems are not related or connected to yours, so why would you be concerned about my firewalls or encryptions?" Oh, boy. I guess I better come clean with this.

"I'm not feeling comfortable about Cholometes. Jason says he looks like Special Ops, most likely information systems. I know that he was the one that gave you the information concerning my background and my search for you. He looked me in the eyes last night and told me that Welch left breadcrumbs while investigating you and I know that Welch doesn't leave breadcrumbs. He's too careful. So this is someone who has the ability to dig in places that no one else has," I say to Butterfly. Jason nods at me and leaves the study.

"Christian, I think you may be overreacting just a bit," she cautions.

"How so?" I ask. "This man stood in my building at a party that I was hosting and boldly stated that he would willingly take one of the most important things to my heart away from me while I was looking if given the chance. I don't know what tactics he may employ to strengthen his position. He threatened me to my face. I don't think I'm overreacting at all." Butterfly walks over to me and pushes her hand into my hair.

"You are if you think there's anything that he can ever do to take me away from you," she says softly. Oh, God, it's so hard exercising patience with this woman. I want her to be mine forever, right now, but I know that timing is everything. I pull her down into my lap.

"I don't want him to be able to do _anything _that could jeopardize what we have _or _our safety," I tell her.

"He won't, Christian. I've known Brian for a long time. I believe him as much as you do when he says that he will try to win me over if you screw up, make no mistake, but I truly think that's as far as it goes. He's watching you and waiting for his chance to come in and 'save' me... from _you. _As long as you don't give him that chance, we'll be fine, okay?" she says, looking into my eyes. I won't argue with her that I think Cholometes' hand reaches farther than she thinks it does and that I don't trust him or his intentions when it comes to her, but I won't argue about it right now.

"I will listen to what you say and I will heed your words, but I'm still going to keep my eye on him. I don't trust him and I won't let down as long as I know that he will take you away from me given the chance." I tell her.

"Well, that's a compromise. I can't ask for more than that." She kisses me gently on the cheek. That little gesture does something to me and I point at my cheek again. She kisses me gently in the same spot and smiles. "I need to talk to you."

"Oh, this sounds like something that I don't want to hear," I sigh heavily.

"Well, I don't know. I got a call from Carla today."

"Carla?" The shock that registered on my face must have been monumental. "What the hell did she want? Did you actually talk to her?"

"No, I didn't. It went to voice mail like it normally does. It appears that Stephen is dying." I nod.

"Cirrhosis finally caught up with him?" I ask and she nods.

"It looks that way. He's actually in a coma and they don't expect him to wake up. He can't get a transplant since he's an alcoholic, so I'd say he's pretty much a goner." I look questioning at her.

"So, what now? Is there something you want me to do?" I ask.

"Be prepared to come with me to Green Valley once he's dead." I actually breathe a sigh of relief at those words. "What did you think I wanted?"

"I thought your big heart might have felt some sympathy for him and you were expecting me to do something to help him." I admit.

"Yeah, view his body when he's dead," she replies flatly. "I think Carla had the same hope when she left the message."

"Just curious... Why do you want to go to his funeral?"

"One of the many steps of closure that I need. I want to see his body, Christian. I am absolutely positive that things may have gone a lot differently if he had believed me over Whitshit's money when I told him about the rape. If we had gotten the authorities involved—even if they didn't believe me and I couldn't press charges—I think things would be different." She stood up and started to pace. "When Cody raped me, I just knew that he was accustomed to getting what he wanted. Nobody said 'no' to him, and if they did, Daddy just fixed it. I said 'no,' and I got raped, but I was sure that I wasn't the only one. Even then, I was sure. Madison confirmed it for me..." My eyes get large.

"She told you? She knew?" I ask, horrified.

"I don't think she knew at the time. I think she suspected, though. When I told her that her life was about to be over because of a rapist, she knew that I was telling the truth. I could see it in her eyes. I don't know if I was the first or if I was the last or somewhere in the middle, but I wasn't the only. If that bastard had listened to me, those who may have come before me may have spoken up once I went to the authorities. Those who may have come after me may not have suffered at his hand."

"That's a lot of 'may have's' Baby," I tell her. I have learned from _all _of my therapists that "what if's" are a bad way to analyze things.

"You're right, and I know this, but there's one 'may have' that is not a 'may have.' I am certain that if my stepfather had believed me, stood by me, I wouldn't have been beaten. Steps would have been taken so that he would have had to stay away from me. Ridicule I could have taken—I wouldn't have cared, but I feel in my heart that Stephen's lack of action only served to confirm for those bastards that I was lying which directly led to that beating. I feel like that asshole could have done something to save me and he didn't. To top it all off, he took money to keep me quiet and a lot of it. So yes, I want to see his body. I want to make sure he's dead. That will be part of my closure... and I want to turn this video over to the authorities." Okay, _now _you're speaking my language.

"Are you sure that you are ready for that?" I ask her. I don't want her to slip into another catatonic state.

"I am more than ready, Christian. These bastards have gotten away with this long enough. The only reason why I'm not turning it in this very second is because I don't want to have to travel to that God-forsaken place more than I have to." I stand and take her hand.

"Just let me know when you're ready go," I tell her.

"As soon as I have funeral arrangements for that bastard, which I am sure won't be too long," she says. I grab her hand to stop her pacing. When she stops, I pull her back down into my lap and hold her there for a while. Life's just too short to make bad decisions and hold on to grudges that can easily be buried.

* * *

"Maxine Saunders speaking. How can I help you?" I'm sitting in my office looking out of the window on a rainy Thursday afternoon when I finally decide to call Maxine. I don't really know what to say to her right now, but I think this conversation is long overdue.

"Maxine, it's Christian. Is this a bad time?" The line is silent for a moment.

"Um... no. No, not at all. Is Ana okay?" she asks, her voice laced with concern.

"Yes, she's fine," except I think she should see another therapist since she keeps shutting down and shrinking, but that's a different conversation. "I'm a little out of my depth here, but I think we should talk about... our relationship or... whatever it is." I'm not usually one to trip over my tongue, but I'll be the first to say that I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. She sighs.

"Okay. Well, I know that you are hurt and upset and I recognize that, but I don't know what else I can say. I've apologized profusely and I know that I was completely out of line in everything that I did that day, but I can't say more than that. I don't know what else to say, Christian. I want this to go away as much as you do, but I don't know what else I can say to you." I hear the sincerity in her voice and I'm trying to get past what I'm feeling.

"This is what I need you to understand," I begin. "I don't know how much Anastasia has told you about me, but I don't trust easily. I had a really fucked-up life and a screwed-up childhood. I'm adopted, and I have the best parents that anyone could have hoped for, but I've encountered some real fucking nut-cases along the way. They did some real numbers on me before and after I became legal. I don't have time or desire to review my chaotic life with you, but I will tell you that my experiences have made it difficult for me to trust people. I was basically a recluse when Ana and I met. All of my relationships fit into a specific pattern and I had no room or desire for outside friendships. People are too unpredictable and untrustworthy and I had no desire to have that in my life."

"You know that's not healthy, don't you?" she says. Oh, no the fuck she didn't...

"I'm not telling you this so that you can analyze me, Maxine. I'm telling you this so that you can understand _our _situation. I've been to every type of specialist known to man; I don't need another one." My voice is sharp when I make this point. Learn where to draw the line, Lady!

"I'm sorry, Christian. It's the shrink in me. It's what gets me into trouble. Please accept my apology," she says.

"It's good that you understand that, but you really need to stop apologizing and put a leash on that, Maxine. I'm certain that Ana would have never chosen between us if it had come to that, but you inability to separate the shrink from the woman is going to cause you a lot more problems than you think." It's surprising to me that she's not a better shrink to Butterfly since she seems to be more shrink than woman half the time. I wonder how Phillip even deals with that.

"Getting back to my point, the only way for me to be able to get past what I'm feeling right now towards you is to tell you exactly what I'm feeling right now towards you. My question is, do you want to hear it?" I ask. The line is quiet again and I am certain that the wheels are turning. I can tell that Maxine is a "take no prisoners" type of person and she won't take being berated, but she's going to sit still for this one, or she can wash this relationship down the drain.

"I don't know how to answer that, Christian," she says, cautiously.

"Carefully," I suggest. "Think of it this way. You came into my home and you made your feelings _very _clear without any consideration for mine. I'm trying to have consideration for yours right now."

"Christian, I did not ignore your feelings..." she begins.

"No? You told me that you would make an enemy of me, Maxine. I'm pretty certain that you weren't considering my feelings at that moment!" I'm getting angry because it seems like she's still making excuses. I'm not going to try to make her listen to me. I'm only doing this because I was listening to Butterfly talk about burying old grudges.

"Yes," she says softly, "yes, I did say that. Go ahead Christian, I'm ready to hear it." She sounds defeated and I'm a little stunned! I don't let that deter me, though.

"I let you in, Maxine. I don't do that easily. When I let somebody in and they betray me, that's huge. We may not have ever been the _best_ of friends, but I take your relationship with my girl very seriously. For that reason, I let you in, and not only did you betray me, but you also threatened me. When you threaten me, demand that I make a decision or take a stance that you think I should take, that's a fucking deal-breaker. I have ruined—and I mean _ruined—_people who have done things like that to me, people who were certain that they had the upper hand only to discover that you don't fuck with Christian Grey. I can't very well handle _this _situation that way, now can I?" I pause for a moment so that the statement can sink in.

"I am not hurt, Maxine. I am angry. In fact, I'm pissed. I'm pissed that you had the audacity to say the things you said and take the liberties that you took with me at all, much less in my own home. I am beyond livid that you felt like my feelings, concerns, and wishes had absolutely no impact whatever on what was going to happen to the woman that I love. Make no mistake—I can leave this conversation and never speak to you again and I wouldn't bat an eye. It would be absolutely no sweat off my back, but you are important to Ana, and she's important to me. She has advanced directives now, so you and I don't ever have to be concerned about being in that particular situation again, but I plan on being with that woman for the rest of my life. That means that somewhere down the line, you and I are most likely not going to see eye-to-eye... _again_. You don't have to agree with me, Maxine, but if you ever cross me again the way that you did while I helplessly stood by watching my girlfriend in a catatonic state, all bets are off and you _will _be the enemy. If you ever try to strong-arm or bully me again, I'm coming at you with both barrels and I don't care who's standing behind you."

"Christian, I think that's a little uncalled for," she tries to scold me.

"Do you really? Because that's how you made me feel. You made me feel like your word was law, no matter what I or Ray or anybody had to say. So you don't think I should feel the need to protect myself against you now?"

No. Please. Let's not do this," she replies calmly. "I was way out of line, I know that I was. I didn't know that it affected you this strongly."

"I don't see how you couldn't know. You came back with a court order. It's one thing to think that I hurt her... that I _could _hurt her. It's something else entirely to get the _law _to come into my home and take her away from me, like she needed to be rescued. How could you _not _know?" Surely, she jests...

"Ugh!" she gasps in frustration. "This is so much bigger than I thought it was."

"That's because you only thought about how it affected you. I don't know what blinded you, but Ray doesn't have to see you nearly as much as I do, nor does he have any kind of acquaintance with you. So he doesn't feel like I feel, but even he wouldn't lose any sleep about not ever seeing you again after this situation. Do you understand at all how we are feeling? That's his daughter, and you disparaged that relationship with that whole _blood relative_ bullshit, but you basically made me feel like _nobody—_like_ nothing_. Then you march out telling Gary to keep you posted like someone needed to keep an eye on me? Can you see why I might be just a tad bit perturbed?" I spit the last part at the phone.

"Yes," she breathes into the phone. "Yes, I can." She says nothing else. I don't know if she's crying or just tired of fighting, but she is completely silent now. I know that I couldn't let this go without her knowing how she made me feel that day. This way, if she ever does this again, she will know that all bridges are burned with me and there is no turning back. I sigh heavily. I actually feel like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders.

"I don't want to have this conversation with you again, Maxine. I've told you how this made me feel, and I don't like repeating myself. Most of all, I don't want to repeat this situation. So, are we all clear on our feelings about this?" I ask. I have had my fill of this whole thing, quite frankly, and I am very ready for things to get back to normal.

"Quite clear. Does... Ana know we're having this conversation?"

"No, she doesn't, but you can feel free to tell her if you like." I have nothing to hide and I meant every word that I said.

"No. I think... this is a conversation best left between the two of us."

"As you wish," I say noncommittal.

"I'll talk to you soon?" she asks, her voice sounding hopeful.

"I'll talk to you soon," I confirm before ending the call.

* * *

_**A/N: **_

_**Like I told you, everything I do has a purpose. Do you think Christian could have possibly had that conversation with Ana if she didn't do something extremely shitty to him? Don't expect her to wave the magic wand and she's not shrinking or shutting down, but at least it has been thoroughly brought to her attention now. Also, I couldn't take Christian through the proverbial wringer and not take Ana through it. There are some more hurdles to jump, but I am more than ready for bad-ass Ana to come back myself. We got a taste of her with Cody. I think I need to see her some more...**_

_**You know where the Pinterest page is...**_

_**If you are already at the other site, PLEASE REVIEW THERE, NOT HERE (or both if you like, but at least over there)... If not, you still have time! Hurry before it's too late... divinebronzegoddess at gmail. com**_

_**Love and handcuffs,  
Lynn x**_


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